The Colours Of Our Games

• Enling Liao, Grade 11
• Poetry
• 2019

In a late-light falling sun and
Streaks of gold dark brown and soil
When the free-wheeling crows dust the earth with black
Wings and hoarse dark cries
The hearts of children grow and learn to
See in the marigold bush
Mama’s warnings, Old Joe’s planned and wary eyes

In a different, brighter world
Songs would rise and colour –
Colour should never grow old
But
Each generation, a crop of mud-haired children
Racing plains and games that only children will
Understand
Fearless,
Look at the sunset and the
Strong, brown and umber timbered land-
That myriad splintered fractals of a blinding autumn light
And laugh into the sky.