Rooted

As the leaves hung down, swaying ever so slightly in the breeze, he wondered how he had never noticed it before. Right before him, everyday, for  at least the last fifteen years, this little fern stood strong - rooted in the wall, hanging over him, standing watch.

He took this alley everyday walking to school - yet he had managed to never look up and greet the green life that was above him. Its leaves were so vibrant, pulsating against the grays of the alley. There was no other life amongst the concrete - only he and it. How could he have missed it all those years?

He almost felt rude, as if sometime long ago he should have introduced himself.