Competition

2010 Winners

14-15 Years

Second Prize

Walks with Aunt Eileen
by Sarah Webster
Green Valley, NSW

“Shall we walk?”
Her whispered words,
(Though jagged and
Semi-silent,)
Whistle,
Like the midsummer breeze,
That whirls,
Through defiant copper branches,
That remain,
Ever coiled and motionless.           

We shall.

The hand I hold,
Is withered,
Like the crumbling,
Autumn leaves,
That sweep across
The tangerine leaf litter.
Sallow and limp,
Like golden ash trees.

We walk.

Wading through tickling snowfall,
That cloaks the blades,
Of glaciated grass.
Snowfall that dulls the languid myrtle,
Of the Evergreens,
And clasps at winter solstice.
Pondering at snowflakes,
That delicately glide,
Towards a dour ground,
Feeble, like her shadow. 

We walk. 

The air, as clear and crisp,
As her crystal-watered eyes,
Sparkling in sequins of spring sunshine,
That dance with the dazzling flutter,
Of azure and fragile wings.
They shine in the final glimmer,
Of daylight,
Before the setting of the sun.
Nowadays,
The sun fades quickly.

But the sun must set.
And the glimmer must fade.

The hand I hold,
Has walked,
Through years of ceaseless time.
Walked through countless ticks,
And tocks,
That echo inside,
These hostile walls.
Tick,
Tock,
Those ominous hands,
Of the chestnut clock,
That must,
Inevitably,
Strike one.

Alone,
Now,
I walk.

I walk.

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