An orchid stood tall in the window,
Looking out at the yard,
Where the dragon chases the pearl,
Aflame and brightly burning,
Make the orients' subtlety seem hard.

Ladies pass the house,
Pause to observe,
The smile on the orchids petal,
Waiting, like they, to serve,
Hoping not to lose its sunlight,
Not to break its nerve.

Bow down before the ancient scriptures,
The stories that they told,
Of magic wands and spinning wheels,
And of the sacred flower,
The orchid of the orient; unfold.