A City Cousin

• Lauren Denman, Grade 11
• Poetry
• 2009

A cousin of mine laments her life alone in an endless squeeze,
Not a smile does she see, only a sneer, a snarl, a sneeze.
Between crammed buildings, pasty faces scuttle and cower,
No time to help each other, let alone a flower.

Her view is of a litter-lined congested lane,
She’s never felt a real ray or tasted a real rain.
Above me a wide expanse of cloudless blue,
Above her, a pollution-tainted grey hue.

Where my roots extend into the ground,
Hers just wind round and round.
She’s due for a transplant, and a drink,
The medicine needed to restore her pink.

And as my petals face a star-filled sky,
She still sits on a sill sixteen stories high.
At night sirens wail and horns beep,
But I have only silence to lull me to sleep.