Allysa, Age 11, Kitimat, BC

How Serendipitous,
the poet said to herself
for my pen is full of ink but my page is blank.
I listen softly to the wind outside my country house.
The red-orange flame is like the lonely artist,
who draws swirls of orange and red.
As the artist says “ How Serendipitous” that I’m alone.
If there were people near me
I wouldn’t have my artistic touch.
How Serendipitous.

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