Page 17 - Oz Kids in Print, Issue 1, 2020

My Home
Where the sea licks the sand,
Where the trees wisp a cold air on my face,
Where the salty air fills your senses,
Where the sky goes millions of colours,
Where you wander down the street,
And see so many familiar faces,
The butcher, the baker, the best cooks in town,
The artist, the florist, or the grocer are always around.
you see buildings that hide great history,
And trees that hide their age,
you see places and think,
Of the spirits from the lost age.
So many questions,
Is there a trail in every path?
Is there a seed in every heart?
Questions that will be answered in time
And questions that have already been answered long ago.
Such a small town can hide thousands of secrets.
The lady next door who is sweet as sugar,
Or the singer and the writer who live happily together,
The fisherman who walks down the street bare foot,
Pushing his boat to shore.
The lady who hides in her house
And never wants to open the door.
The ghost of the little girl
Who hides in the streets,
She died of a mystery,
What no one can meet.
If you’re lucky, you’ll see her
Down in the shadows
Playing with toys
Like rag dolls and marbles.
I love the beach,
I love sand between my toes,
I love the ocean water,
That is crystal clear.
I love the giant waves that roll over you,
I love sea weed,
That you can wear as hair,
Or the sandcastles,
That are so many shapes everywhere.
All these things make home to me,
The people,
The places,
The smells,
The beach and memories.
It’s almost an island,
But it’s named Queenscliff.
It is my home
Where I’m never alone.
My house on a hill,
With a beautiful view.
Issue 1, 2020
With toys and books,
My room is cluttered
Memories, photos, and clothes on hooks.
Treasures from my adventures
And pillows stacked high.
It’s my little cave when I need alone time.
The best days of all
Are the cold winter ones.
It may sound strange,
But having a hot chocolate by the fire,
Is absolutely fun.
you can play board games,
Or do a puzzle, or leave it undone.
It’s the simple things at home
That mean the most.
Like learning to cook brownies,
Or cuddling your cat
To show him you care.
To collect eggs from the chickens,
Or feeding the fish.
Or just say I love you,
Occasionally to your loved ones,
While they are still there.
Midnight black swans,
glide over the bay.
Always with a friend,
No matter what they say.
We watch their routines
Every year.
Flying in and out,
Without any fear.
It’s not just my house
That I call home.
It’s the people, the town,
And all the places I roam.
It’s my family, and pets, neighbours, and open spaces.
It’s in every tree,
And in every grain of sand,
It’s in the salt air and
My love of the land.
By Charlotte Williams
Year 6, Point Lonsdale Primary School
POINT LONSDALE – VIC.
Teacher: Mrs Fay Agterhuis
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