Beauty bays
in the back gardens
of concrete
we’ve created,
simplicity shouting
from the shadows
of cites under siege,
precious petals
pulsing with potential,
lines of light longing
add contrast to contour,
like age adds interest.

Long days, lonely,
waiting to be witnessed
by more than just
the falling rain…

We all are beauty,
bending to the light,
bursting to be seen.

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

This is a repost.