I stood there when the gust of wind hit me. Dust all over me. I didn’t move. I stood. The flood brought with it all the dirt. Drenched me; every inch of me. I still stood. The winter stole the water out of me. Chapped skin, blood and flies all over me. I still stood. Summer came with its own weapon. Sweat dripping right onto my wounds. Tears? Yes. But, I still stood.
Spring comes and you pass by. You call me filthy, stinky, garbage. Yes I am. But I also know that I have stood the test of time. I certainly stood.
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