She was planted on the cold hard ground.
Stomped on, stunted, just left behind.
Suffocating in a dark, cramped space, feeling confined.
The only voice of comfort was her own, her own mind.
She was scattered along the concrete sidewalk.
Expected to take root, expected to flourish.
Neglected, unwatered, unnourished.
Will she ever grow or see the light of day?
Or will she perish and just wither away?
Yes, she was forsaken. Yes, she was shaken. But she was never broken.
Against all odds, she began to sprout.
Shunning all doubt.
Shooting out, aiming for the sun.
She is chosen, yes she is the one.
Budding, flowering, blooming!
Soon all will see her rare beauty, so consuming.
They will hear her song unsung.
Be mindful, her journey has just begun.
That Book Blogger 📚 
The beauty present when the dance begins. When hope springs, what heights can be achieved? Thank you for sharing.
LikeLiked by 1 person
…there would be no limits. Thank you so much for checking out my poem. 🤗
LikeLike