I saw a young plant, clean and green,
Its leaves so small and so pristine,
Surrounding it a sea of brown and grey,
A graveyard of leaves, where they decay,
Yet the young plant stood proud and strong,
It stretched its roots deep though they are not very long,

Why, I wonder, was the young plant borne in this accursed place, Its friends and family vanished without a trace
Why in a location devoid of life and spirit
Should a young plant live, winning a victory so pyrrhic?
A struggle for life, an endless fight
And for that it shines, it is quite bright
But for all its strength, all its resolve
The young plant was still very much alone