By Annah Phen
Walk on trails of plenty,
They cannot be defined by greed,
For each place has a role,
All played inside of me,
A journey.
I fly the migrated path,
Of those who seek warmth.
Each has a resting nest,
Leaves and twigs transform,
Into a home.
Life appears bigger,
Then just a field of grass,
Flowers cheer for greener,
Soil to make them last,
A lifetime.
I want to be gardened,
For the soil to give me plenty,
The bees and wind to pollinate,
What I wish to give many,
An abundant dream.
