Black Roses Grow From Concrete: A Happy Ending Poem by Paula Glynn

Those innocent flowers,
To grow in a world of hate,
Their lives in poverty,
But entering the world of education,
Where they learn and grow,
Like black roses from concrete,

And in their world is deceit,
But much, much hope,
And love from parents,
Who know the pain,
Who dream of the monsoon rain,
Not passing grief onto black roses,

For the world has much grief,
Like the poet and the thief,
But classrooms create hope,
With minds that are,
Clean like cleansing soap,
As lesson after lesson,
Is learnt and very much treasured,
For an inkling of happiness,
Is starting to be felt,

No black rose needing,
To gamble, like cards,
Being shuffled and dealt,
And every Saturday,
That beautiful black rose,
With so much ambition and hope,
Will watch the shoppers,
And know she can be the same,

Where her world doesn't carry pain,
Or heartache and sorrow,
Where there is always hope for tomorrow,
And her mother and father,
Dress her up at the prom,
Graduating from school,
Where a black rose,

Dazzles in the dance hall,
And where angels now come to call,
For a black rose has risen above,
Into the material world,
But her world never vain or full of greed,
For she did succeed,
And need never apologise for her success,
Where every day she is well dressed,

Having grown from concrete,
Having known a world of deceit,
But she did never cheat,
And is an inspiration,
For all who start from the streets.