Victorain Bush Fires
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Molly Whelan, Grade 6
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Poetry
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2009
Meandering through an enormous wooden maze,
The lush green grass between my toes.
Golden leaves falling off tired trees,
Laying haphazardly across a green velvet carpet.
The destined smell of burning trees,
Blackened sky and land.
No more trees,
No more leaves,
No where to play any more.
Mother says to me,
Well better start rebuilding,
But not stop believing,
Because tomorrow’s a brand new day.