A crystal, orange sun awakens.
Her sleepy yawn frightens the birds.
The trees all escape from their slumber
and shake off the dead, drowsy night.
A new day is born!
Let us christen her with laughter!
May the footsteps of our play
become her tiny finger prints.
Shall we bring gifts to welcome our newest friend?
We run swiftly to celebrate
this ordinary marvel.
Berry bushes giggle as we pass by unsuspecting.
They whisper as we reach for the vibrant butterflies
but catch only their giddy snickers
in our nets.
for the sun couldn't have played with them anyways.
Best to keep these butterflies for ourselves.
Just more playmates
to keep us in our make-believe utopia
just a little while longer.
Camille Conner (Aged 14)
Joint Winner of the Young Writer Award