. Poppy A vase of poppies on the table there, Twelve years have past, all white is now her hair. A shadow running up the path she sees, Her son has come! Her end to miseries. Twelve years have past all white is now her hair. She missed him much, with fear she couldn’t bear. Her son has come, her end to miseries! With grateful heart, she drops down on her knees. She missed him much, with fear she couldn’t bear. A shadow running up the path she sees. With grateful heart, she drops down on her knees. A vase of poppies on the table there. . . April The snowdrops bloom, the raindrops fall, __The crickets lullaby. The snow has left once and for all. __The eaglets learn to fly. It is the April of the year, __The crocuses all sprout. The birds are singing; Spring is here! __The river’s full of trout. So let’s go outside and rejoice, __The Earth has come alive! The wind is whispering a noise. __The bees fly from their hive. The Summer soon enough will come, __Then Fall, then Winter’s drear. And if you add them up; the sum’s __The seasons of the year. . . A.S. Chuba is thirteen years old and attends Maryvale Academy in Canada.