Iona loves to write stories and poems. I think she’ll be a writer; she seems to have the gift. Here is one she wrote today for school. With illustration! They are doing ‘Dragons’.
The Water Dragon
Far away in the distance,
Asleep on a rock there lies,
Still as a boulder the egg of a dragon
The sky wrapping it in a blanket of fog.
Without warning, twitch, twitch, crack!
First a tail,
With sapphire scales,
Then a claw,
Then another, then another,
A nose, nostrils flared,
Sniffing the air,
The shell shatters into tiny shards,
Eyes blue as the lake where the mother lives,
Scales sharp, as the father’s roar,
Horns, quartz white, his fierce protectors,
Must go to his mum, must go to his mum,
Trees murmur “this way, this way!"
He staggers through the autumn leaves,
Red, orange and gold,
He can taste the coldness of the air,
The lake’s ahead!
He scrambles down the bank
His feet splash in the water
He’s happy. He’s home
Iona Rowland, aged 8 ¾