The Evil Of Serra Glen

• William Bruton, Grade 7
• Poetry
• 2008

The wind was blowing,
The smell of spring was in the air,
The rippling lake was flowing,
A rose drifted with,
For the darkness was coming,
And with it a shrill mist,
The dull moon was rising,
And the sun would be dearly missed,
As the air was cold,
The rose curled up,
As it did in the time of old,
Because the rose brought evil,
For the shade was coming,
And the dark creatures as well,
Anyone would fear,
As no one has lived to tell,
The Evil of Serra Glen,
Has come again.