Golden Stars

• Angus Delaney, Grade 6
• Poetry
• 2013

Gunshots piercing through the skies
Ducking heads while ammunition flies



Marching over to the crowd
Enemy come, and we are ploughed.

Red blood blossoming across my shirt
Crawling over to alert
As they see we are not neat
They call for soldiers to retreat

We run, hobble, limp and crawl
Attempting to avoid the deathly brawl
I collapse to the ground with a final thud
And feel ebb away my lifes blood

I now I find I cannot rise
As golden stars fog my eyes


By Angus Delaney