A Tree Grows in Brooklyn
A tree can grow
In the darkest corner
A tree can decorate
The ugliest of lots
A tree can thrive
Among those who
Have withered away
Long ago
And who have
Given up
On sprouting
Somewhere else
A tree’s seeds
Are not confined to
The fruitless soil
Their ancestors occupy
They can ride the wind
Or flow downstream
To a sunny meadow
And start a new life where
There is room to bloom
A dim borough that is
Is the only world
To a child
Who has never read
A significant passage
Or seen
A beautiful act
Confines them to defeat
But a glimmer of
Hope shines
In the minds
Of those who have read
Seen
Learned
And dreamed
It is up to those
Who have their hold
On a better future
To guide the innocent
Into seeing the world
As a book
That can be opened
By the most untaught child
With the most unenlightened life
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