Latches, hooks, like beaks,

Clasping together and holding tight,

Yet firstly repelling.



Beady lumps,

Dented all over,

Reflecting miniaturized rainbows.



A never ending, thin rectangular prism,

Curving and curling,

Where the clasps want to once again meet.



Colours like autumn leaves with a transparent blend,

A natural call of beauty,

Peaceful with most un-primary colours.



Beads as hard and cool,

But seemingly warm,

As a church stain-glassed window in winter sun.


Like a zipper, it would taste cold and irony,

Then sweet as your tongue plays with it.


Once it’s fitted to a wrist,

It’s ready to move.


Like a pet, if lost,

The heart would be torn in two.


Kept high,

From little people with little hands,


Perhaps a sister might want it,

As sisters do.

Zipper leaves through an autumn tree

By Hayley

View more poems from Davidson High School (NSW) - Cabinet of Lost and Found 2010