Poetry

Reclaimed

It’s amazing the places flora can grow.

An old boot cast onto the riverbank,

now home to grass and daisies.

A rusted bike, complete with basket,

that holds a sign for a local cafe

obscured by ivy fingers.

A school bus long since rolled onto its side

by people with nothing better to do

has become a greenhouse for wildflowers, mushrooms

and lichen.

And abandoned buildings, whole cities even,

thought to be left only for ghosts and radiation,

have instead become forests.

Concrete, toxic jungles

now just

jungles.