Good Neighbors Poem by Ima Ryma

Lovely new morn to contemplate.
The light and warmth of sun peek through.
It's time and place to congregate,
To do the work we're meant to do.
Buildings and pathway all around
Are all covered up in drab stone.
No where is there left open ground.
So in the planters we are grown.
In early spring from seeds we sprang.
Then buds to blossom brightly hued.
On path we sit, on walls we hang.
We are a welcome multitude.

We brighten up the neighborhood.
We flowers bloom and life is good.