Flowers On A Broken Wall Poem by Mark. A Heathcote

Flowers on a broken wall
Are they the emblems of us all?
They shine so high.
And pilfer low
With the tears of others
Whilst they grow
Buildings, holler work!
Toil in the dirt
Tomorrows are always flowering
Sleep is always clamouring.
Like a climbing rose.

This is the way.
The daylight gardener knows.
Watching the robin
Through his red scarlet robes
Scrambling for worms
Like a whirlwind-hungry cyclone
In a jostle of comings and goings
This is the way.
We travel to work.
This is the way.
We travel home.
Sitting on buses blissfully alone
Like the fading wallflower of sunset gold
Watching ourselves grow old.