Jeramiah

• Isla Paul, Grade 11
• Poetry
• 2017

Jeramiah was tired from all of the work but nothing would stop him digging his dirt
For he had heard a golden eye that rays of light could touch the sky
His hands were red, his legs so weak, but yet he keep finding sheep.
'Alas' he thought 'These sheep don't shine', 'they are just bones, dirt and grime'
He also found some shards of pot but sadly they aren't worth a lot.
His arms were sore, his back still ached, all he wanted was some cake
Jeramiah kept digging and finally he found his winnings!