Close

Children playing, next to the old oak tree

Suddenly misunderstood – moaning –

The field somewhat heaven like

 

Quick movements of the hands

Flip onto the bed

Wheat cushioning and peaceful

Tip and it starts

 

The sky turns grey

Striking thunder claps

Penetrate the barrier of sound

Fire scratches the field

 

Now nothing is left

Rain has broken the fire,

The fire has ravaged the wheatlands

The bones of the children left back

 

Wind blows lushessly through the air

Desperate words fill the sky

The memories, the children hold

Mi amore.

Wheat-lands calenture


By Joshua

View more poems from Brisbane Water Secondary College (NSW) - Cabinet of Lost and Found 2010