There Are Poem by gina prettybrowneyes

There are trees beneath the grinding asphalt
You see them as you stroll, clammy hands in your pockets
Those windows in to the other dimension
The world beneath all roads and sidewalks

There are large looming black trees
Standing out against the whitest blue sky
Fiery orange leaves like an exotic party dress
Adorn those gothic castles, those black trees

You look into that seemingly perfect world, through a
Gleaming rain-washed window
Wanting to bend over, to reach out and grab a leaf
Knowing it will taste of autumn

Hands sweep down and you dip your fingertips in
Finding not that pristine world you crave, but
Only cold stagnant rain water
Burning your fingertips with harsh reality

You rise, turn. disappointed, continue walking
Wiping the last remnants of Utopia
Off of your wrinkled digits
Onto chilled frayed blue jeans

And the next time it rains.
You will look for the trees beneath the street