Within the shadowed forest deep,
She watches where the flowers crawl.
The trees that dance and flail and weep
Entrance her, make her feel so small.

She watches where the flowers crawl
Abundantly; the bursting scents
Entrance her, make her feel so small,
The life the least here represents.

Abundantly, the bursting scents
Surround the dust she still can taste.
The life the least here represents
Confirms she's blessed. She's not disgraced.

Surround the dust she still can taste
With water flowing free. The air
Confirms she's blessed. She's not disgraced.
The land she left cannot compare

With water flowing free, the air
A spice that wraps her, sweet and cool.
The land she left cannot compare.
If she had stayed, she'd be a fool.

A spice that wraps her, sweet and cool,
Ingredients to make her whole.
If she had stayed, she'd be a fool;
It's here she's nurturing a soul.

Ingredients to make her whole,
The trees that dance and flail and weep.
It's here she's nurturing a soul
Within the shadowed forest deep.

Author's Notes:

The pantoum as I'm doing it here is an English version of a French adaptation of a Malaysian poetic form. Multicultural, in other words, so I figured I'd give one to Zecora.