A poem of the garden

Rose in the Garden
I am born, I sprout,
olive stemmed and stout,
my petals like a cool satin,
their flowers starting to fatten.
I feel the bladed edge,
as I’m removed from the sedge.
Earth patted ‘round my roots,
as I am planted near the fruits.
I grow and I flower,
more stunning by the hour,
but soon you forget about me,
no watering, no food, nothing from thee.
Footsteps, heavy, boots!
A bang, a gun shoots.
Men of War, I find out,
as I am trampled by scouts.
Guns, blood, killing and more,
I’m shocked by the amount of gore.
I’m so withering and small,
with no care at all.
Where am I? I ask,
in death do I bask?
Has your war killed me.
Or am I still that budding, Rose in the Garden?
Victoria E. Glista
W.H. Morden Public School, Grade 6
Age 12
1st Prize – 2010
Award
Recipients
Group 1 (Grades 4 to 6)
Poems: Award Re cipients / Group 1 (Grades 4 to 6)

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