Last Goodbye

• Thomas Donaldson, Grade 7, St Mary's College -
• Poetry
• 2018

Excellence Award in the 'Write Along 2018' competition

A small wheat stalk, in the bare parched field,
the poor little stubble, he had no shield.
With all his mates gone, dirt all around,
the sun and the frost, smashed him hard to the ground.
As the days and nights pass,
no rain to be seen,
the weak little stubble, grew old and lean.
As his days come near, to his life’s end,
he was stiff as a pole, he could not bend.
Before he gave his final breath,
he wished he’d live a happy death.
He shrivelled up and closed one eye,
he spoke one word and that word was goodbye.