The End

• Bethan Smith, Grade 7
• Poetry
• 2017

I watch as the long legged birds wade through the water. I feel so sad that they do not know that the end is coming. The sky goes dark. It's happening and there's nothing I can do to stop it.

One by one the birds fly up into the sky. I watch as one by one they are shot back down. Oh no, it's happening quicker than I expected. It won't be long until it's too late. I know I have to do something, but what?

I have to run. I have to hide. But where? I do not know. I see a den, made by dingoes. That'll do, at least for now. Fast as lightning I run towards it. It's big and spacey inside. Hopefully I won't be found.

Here they come. Marching in a single file line. Left, right, left, right. They are quite far from my hiding place, but I don't think it'll be long until they find me. I can't move, I can't breathe. I can't cough, I can't sneeze. They might hear me, They might see me. I have to stay silent as night,
still as a statue.

I watch as they remove everything from my home.
Bulldozers, cranes, all smashing, smashing, smashing... They are taking over.
Just like we were warned. No one had listened when the old people told us to be careful. No one but me. Now everyone is gone, no one left to fight the battles. No one but me. What will become of my beautiful home?

They are writing in books. Measuring the land. It won't be long until they discover my hiding spot.
That will be the end of me.