Place, by Kezia Wright
And there the leaves flutter in the autumn wind,
As they bid their tree goodbye.
There grasses of green arise from the fields
While sounds of the lambs
Throng the springy air.
There a soft wind blows amidst the boiling heat
And gentle waves lap against your feet.
Daylight never ends
And flies buzz in the sticky heat.
There snow blankets the land
And icicles drip onto the morning frost.
The land is still,
When the bitterly cold wind marches in.
There the sun will spread its wings
And shine brightly once again.
There purple evenings are home to the giant moon.
A beach ball in the sun,
Beach Ball in the Summer Sun, by Josh Kenny
Its bright colours colliding
With the sun’s warmth,
Rolling in the summer’s breeze,
On the sandy surface of the beach.
Bouncing and rolling along the sand,
As though it has a mind of its own,
Until the breeze weakens,
And the ball comes to a standstill
In the warmth of the summer sun.
Solitude, by Josh Kenny
My place of solitude is a field,
Not far from my home.
The air is fresh, the ground is moist
And I can see the mountains perfectly.
In the middle of the field I sit
On the wet green grass
Listening to birds and relax,
Forgetting the past.
Solitude and freedom.