LIFE

• Leigh North, Grade 8
• Poetry
• 2010

Light waves crashing on the rocks,
The hills are high in the sky.
The pinnicles are painted sharp,
The busselton coves are deep and steep.

The ground is pastel red,
I can see some green,
but wait, i can see someone...
I am at the pinnicles were the ground is painted gold.

As i take hold of a pinnicle,
I see my life and everything around me fade,
As if i'm going to die,
I get cold and i'm consumed by a bright light then...no more.