The meadow lay silently, patches of grey submerged the field
that was once blossomed, vibrant.
The remains of the fight were colossal,
the last of the empire stood strong;
the kingdom's stacked bricks lay fallen across the floor,
a scaffolding to remember the great colony.
Isolation, pain, torment,
I remember nothing of the event
but the pain which it caused to us all,
the flashes of pain which blasted through the walls,
the screams of the colony which once stood tall around me -
It had given way to its age,
diseased, uncared for,
bodies left to stack upon the ground granite floor.
Nothing to care for,
nowhere to start stitching up its past -
It lay, isolated in the meadow,
just another scaffolding for remorse.
by Charlie Hewitt (13)
Competition - The Poetry Trials
Copyright remains with the author.