Belle Vue Girls’ Academy, West Yorkshire, 2017
She stands under the oak tree.
Leaves fall; flashes of gold, red and orange
That sleep on beds of halcyon greens,
An illustration of beauty painted
By the brush of autumn.
She stands under the oak tree.
Watching all, but seeing none,
For her mind sings in the distance;
A song of sempiternal sadness
That leaves a final, haunting note.
She stands under the oak tree.
Taking in the pungent scent of bonfires;
A spark seeking a flame,
Yet crushed by doubts
That cling like damp moss.
She stands under the oak tree.
Watching birds soar above
In a feat of freedom
And wishing;
Wishing that her broken wings would allow her to do the same.
She stands under the oak tree.
Tormented by ghosts,
Who weave silken webs to entrap
The maelstrom of colours
That once brought her happiness.
She stands under the oak tree.
