by Julian Nguyen, age 12
Her eyes are brighter then the stars at night
I know she'll never be mine alright,
Her looks kill me and yet fill me with joy
But her heart belongs to another boy,
my friends said she'll give me a chance,
and one day I hope to take her for a dance,
Her voice is like an angel's, sweet and soft
And she is like a cloud floating aloft.
I call her the Angel Who Flies Low,
and people call me a lost soul.