Rachel, Age 12, Phnom Penh, Cambodia
Out of the
corner of my eye,
I pass, bestowing it merely a glance.
Then I turn about, and with wild glee,
Rejoice in the sight with ecstasy.
For upon the hill, beneath the dale,
There live flowers, both wild and pale.
They’re poppies, roses, daisies, and more.
Flowers and beautiful flowers galore.
The gypsy poppies, dancing so wild.
The sweet lilies, gentle and mild.
The stately roses, with backs so straight.
All framed by the old-fashioned gate.
All smiling ‘neath the sun,
They dance or bow, or stately sit.
And with their beauty not a one
Is to another a twin.