Saturday, 4 November 2017

flame, swimming, celebrated, white, tomorrow by Clara

flame sprang up in front of me. The snowy, white grass crunched as we walked across. Fireworks were swimming amongst the stars in the dark sky. Families cheered and celebrated, Guy Fawkes never blew up the Houses of Parliament. I was standing in the middle of my garden, the bonfire in front, and the fireworks behind. A burger in my hand, a smile on everyone’s face, you would think I was happy. However, I knew that tomorrow, all that would be left was a pile of ash and some used matches. I had unearthed a new train of thought. 

1 comment:

  1. Hi Clara

    It sounds very poetic, lively and sober all at once. Very well written. I like how you ended with ....a new train of thought, it gives the readers something to ponder on. Good work. Keep writing.