The Face
Coyly smiling at the sun
with brightly colored face,
a demeanor quietly homespun
garlanded with ruffled grace;
wherever planted, sheds crisp cheer
all about the garden plot,
sophisticated peers may proudly sneer;
bravely, she smiles on from her spot.
Determined through the winter cold
to continue blooming by the walk,
I love to see her shining there;
oh, if that simple face could talk!
There are others, I confess,
who possess more glorious flair;
but, to me, in all the world of flowers
to the pansy they cannot compare.
Copyright, August 11, 2016
Faye Lanham Gibson
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