A Pothole

I drove down the street, felt a thud and a shake,

a jolt from the pavement, like life’s own mistake.

Parking beside it, I stared at the ground,

a patchwork of asphalt, crumbling around.

Every bump tells a story of all that’s been lost,

a journey through cracks, not counting the cost.

What’s left in the rubble, beneath layers of grime?

a reminder that beauty is born from the time.