Over there in the dark and dreary alley
Where no one ever goes, a flower grows.
Pushing up through a crack, pushing with all its might
Striving upward to reach the light
A flower, like love, is a delicate thing
That needs tenderness and care to thrive.
However, there it is alone and somehow it survives
All through the winter and into the spring
Its leaves unpeeled, its petals reveled
In the sunlight it lives, the moonlight it dies
The warmth of the sun returns and again it tries