Green Grass Growing

You're the green grass growing,
sprouting between
the oppressive, the confining,
the stifling
concrete road I walk.

Your quest for the sky
is often denied
by what is firm
and solid.

There's beauty in struggle
in pain and in trouble,
my sweet trampled weed.
Stretch out and annex
all that you can
and hopefully spread your seed.

And as you grow old, you will die,
you've come to terms with this, as have I.
Yet your roots will extend
to posterity's end,
a struggle
to be remembered
by.