Green trees cast a shadow over the concrete,
the sun blankets everything with a faint sheen,
an ancient building stood behind,
in the Worcester Boulevard.
People sit on the bench, waiting for the tram,
an old couple hobble by, one with a cane in hand,
a girl with a plait hands out fudge,
in the Worcester Boulevard.
Bright banners hang from the walls,
on a statue, sparrows gossip,
squabbling over crumbs,
in the Worcester Boulevard.
The bustling sound of footsteps,
a cool easterly breeze wafts through,
cars rumble over concrete, a white van passing by,
in the Worcester Boulevard.
Swamplands, that was what was there,
the damp marshy ground smelt like moss
pukekos waddled around.
before the Worcester Boulevard.
Ruins, that is what will be there soon,
anguished cries in the air,
cracks in the concrete as the earth rips apart,
in the future of the Worcester Boulevard
Miranda, Year 7
This poem was written at class exploring past, present and future. We wrote in different tenses using a heritage photograph of The Arts Centre Te Matatiki Toi Ora.
To view the photo that inspired Miranda's poem go HERE.
(c) Write On and Miranda 2021