Burma Trail

Tall shadows tower over me on both sides of the muddy trail. Ferns reach down, grabbing for my woolen beanie. Small shrubs poke out of the undergrowth, nipping at my ankles. Suddenly, the bush beside me rustles, and out jumps a boys silhouette. “BOO!” He yells, raising his hands above his head. (Does he really think I would be scared of that?) I smirk. “Scary.” I say with sarcasm. The girl in front of me grunts with agreement. Although I can’t see his face, I can almost feel his frown of disappointment as he hurries back in line.

Desperately, I open my eyes as wide as they can go, but my vision is still the same. I grip the coarse rope loosely between my fingers, and plunge the other hand into the warmth of my pocket. Giggles and shrieks echo around the forest. Nocturnal bugs stop their loud clicking and chirping as we scramble by. There are rustles and the beat of wings in the treetops high above our heads as the nesting rock wrens and fantails escape our boisterous chatter. Moonlight squeezes through the small gaps in the dense foliage, creating swirling patterns on the ground. The cold caresses me in frigid arms, rocking me gently to the beat of the soft breeze. Perfectly round dew drops descend from the overhanging branches, kissing my nose and forehead. "I'm not going to sleep well tonight!” I think.

The Lonely Beach

The still water reflects the blue sky,

Patterned with orange clouds.

Beer bottles, old fish hooks and rusty cans

Cautiously poke out of the sodden sand.

The graffiti covered barrier is bleached a dull grey,

From all the raging storms and salty waves it has conquered.

Rough green moss creeps slowly up the leaning lamp post,

Heading towards the grimy smashed bulb at the top.

Slimy fishing nets entangle around pieces of driftwood.

A tiny crab scuttles in and out of the small rock pools,

Digging in the sand - looking for food.

The remains of war huts litter the ground.

The last rays of sunlight slide across the water,

And then they are gone until the dawn of tomorrow.

I gaze dreamily at this wasteland,

Thinking of the past,

When the sea lapped softly at the rubbish clear sand.

When sea life scuttled around busily on these now lonely rocks.

When the barriers were clean of disrespectful graffiti,

And that old leaning lamp was straight with a working bulb.

My heart fills with sorrow

As I commemorate all the memories of happiness I spent is this now called dump.

All gone.

 

secret garden

Ivy clings to the brick, hiding it from all menaces. Purple flowers poke out of the greenery, attracting plump bumble bees and colourful butterfly's. I pick a small flower from the ivy, inspect it for bugs, then stick it behind my ear. I look back to were I picked the flower from. a small door handle glints in the rising sun, its rusty bolts nailed into the dark wooden door. A door? My eyes widen in surprise as I rip the ivy away. Once the door is uncovered, I push it open. It doesn't budge. But when I ram my body against the hard wood, it creaks ajar. I peep around the door. Wow! A water fountain spouts crystal clear water in the centre of garden. Pink, red, white, yellow, and orange roses line the sides of the tiled walkway like soldiers, and golf ball hedges dot the daisy covered grass. The aroma of lavender fills the cool air, and the droning hum of bumble bee's fill my ears. A small apple tree dangles unripe green apples from its feeble branches, and white rabbits rush back to their burrows as I walk further in to the yard.  "I think I have just found a secret garden." I think to myself.