1989 School Magazine

WINNER OF THE MARY ALEXIS MACMILLAN PRIZE (YEAR 8)

A PRESENT FROM A CAT I sow lhe sodness in his eYes. "Why do you not belieue me?" theg said A pitiful meu crept from his IiPs. "Did I not bring gou breakfast in bed?" For there in my lap without o head Loy a present from my dorling Jeline t'riend- I knew a reply was what he waited t'or' And the truth it would houe to be. Out ol bed I got. LiJting the poor. dead mouse by the toil' "11's ..... it's louely, dorling, but ..... You may hoae it." Was he satisfied? Had I said enough? It would haue to do. He looked up at me urfh his big serious eyes. As il to soy, "I don't belieue you." And he walked out ol the room. Angelo Hirst. Yeor 8

REFLECTIONS Sighing heauily, the elderly woman lowers herselt' on to the hard wooden bench. her thin form withered ond weary. old. Like the tree she sits beneath. Her honds rest. t'olded in her lap, Gnarled ond shrunken. like the branches of the tree. Gazing ot them, she remembers what capable hands they once were. But now... A shower of leaues falls t'rom the bronch oboue and comes to rest on the bench beside her. Theg haue left their fellows. Like many of the old womon's friends, The leaues are lit'eless. Those remaining know thot their turn will soon come

The woman mourns her past - She Loos once beautiful, cleuer, Respected. But in her sorroulul Jace, Crossed with lines ol hordship. There is still grace. She dismisses her sad thoughts, And insteod, recolls past joys. She sits peacet'ully, Happily. Beautiful as the molestic tree. Ingrid Hodgraft. Yeor 9

WINNER OF THE MARY ALEXIS MACMILLAN PRIZE (YEARS glt0)

DINING OUT I went to a well'known restaurant Once. 'specializing in Seat'ood' - I ote t'ried rice, Because. obout to order, I saw a lobster. Out of its head sprung two black' beady eyes That stung me. Once. Delicotely balanced. She tip-toed uPon the ocean Jloor

With an air of groce And o certain Poise Unique. Notu. Confused, Yet somehow awore of her fote. She cowers in the corner' Motionless Trapped and tortured' hisoner of a neuer'ending nor Awaiting deoth. But within this sfi//ness, Through her eyes Fixed on mine, There is lile. Beqging for mercY, Imploring me to gront her t'reedom: I look away ond order Rice. The Jollouing daY.

At school, t'or lunch' I ate o lamb sondwich Marino Cominos' Year 70

"The African Girl"

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