The lonely yellow blossom lies alienated on a cold slab of cement, wanting to go back to it's parent plant, but unable to find the strength or ability to do so.
The rains have come, pouring from down spouts, readying the next years growth.
The once lush leaves lay huddled and shivering on the ground in a sea of endless color likening it to a "Fruit-Loops" commercial.
And the scene from my bathroom window just gets greyer and darker.
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