In an abandoned lot,
surrounded by fences holding nothing but what was,
the smallest flower grew in between cracks of pavement.
A spot of life at the foot of a dilapidated building.
Its color made brilliant in comparison to its grim surroundings.
Deep purple against grey,
against impossible odds,
against rubbled soil and concrete,
growing past the edge of shadow cast from crumbling walls.
Growing through crossing wire barriers that would keep out and hold in.
Holding to an instinct that called it to thrive.
It pressed toward the light.
Petals to the sun.