Wednesday, 30 March 2016

Christchurch is my Home

Tucked away to the side of my 
chaotic 
garden lies the 
pergola, very durable and strong 
standing tall and 
proud. 

From outside in her basket
Lola
starts barking, a deafening 
ROAR
a lion, 
protecting themselves,
my cat’s 
loud hiss 
silently creeps back to the shadows.

Hiding from beneath 
the bed, 
Lily 
and I test the camera 
chuckling and giggling,
letting 
jolly 
laughs out.

Behind 
where the tram goes 
far 
out at 
Ferrymead
the  musty old 
radio station smells of 
old vanilla,
a warm
friendly smell.

Lying 
engulfed 
on top of my body,
my cow blanket,
covered with petals, 
is silky soft.

Hidden inside the waves 
me and my friends,
jump
up and down 
giving 
a squeal, 
squeak, and 
shriek 
through the distance.



This is Christchurch, 
Christchurch is my home.
 

3 comments:

  1. Wow great job Soraya! This writing sent tingles down my spine, it fits in with Christchurch fantastically. I really like when you said " behind where tram goes far out at ferry mead the musty old radio station smells of old vanilla a warm friendly smell" 😄great job, I remember when the trams used to ride around 😌 fantastic job Soraya!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Soraya you are such a great writer, I love the way you describe the ideas.

    ReplyDelete
  3. That was so good Soraya. You are using great words. You are going to go soo far with your writing please keep it up. 🤗🤗🤓☺️🙃

    ReplyDelete