6Y use an image to depict hope.
When writing, the children were thinking about the following:
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The 5 senses
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Weather
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Light
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Feelings and Emotions
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What is significant about the flowers?
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What they think the man is hoping for?
Ella
Like a feather, his pearly tears dripped sorrowfully down his wrinkled face . The dear rose he clutched had held his happiest memories of the only one person he ever really loved . The rickety, splintered bench had been his resting place for over two hours now and the leaves that once twirled behind him had dropped . He continued to weep like an injured hound as his memories flooded back . Somehow now he was back in the past -in his mind of course – and he could see his beloved wife Elizabeth sitting on the door step of her house cutting a rose Bush . He could No longer bear these memory’s and was now back in the cemetery on his crooked bench where he had been sobbing before next to Elizabeth’s grave . He didn’t stop thinking about her though as he remembered her beauty full and kind nature and locks of chocolatey brown hair that uses to blow around in the wind like a harsh storm.
Maddie
It was a frosty winters evening when the moon had not awoken from its slumber but the sun was nowhere to be seen. The streets had long been deserted and the people had gone home, but for some creatures their day had just begun....
Within the dark, gloomy cemetery walls sat a sorrow man, slumped forward, weeping into his chest. His eyes were red with guilt and regret but his heart pounded with anger. The solitary figure clutched onto a single rose and stared at it as if it had just spoken to him; his eyes were wide but tearful; his hair stood on end; his fingers tensed.... this rose was no ordinary one.
An ominous grey mist stirred and grew bigger around him but he did not flinch, he did not shudder, he just kept staring at the rose as if he was drawn to it addicted you could say. Around him, towering luminous lamp posts shone, reflecting an aura around the man making him stand out among the shadowing graves. Suddenly, an eerie moan bellowed from the ground, the man switched back to the present and immediately stuck his fingers in his ears. The shrieking got louder and louder until he could not bare to listen any longer....
Then out of nowhere, came a spine-chilling breeze, he could now see his breath escaping through his mouth. Struggling to stand, his eyes darted around checking for signs of danger.
He embraced his moment, he took a deep breath in. He ran. Back past the graves. Back past the gates. Through the lonely roads. Up into the park....
Ariadne
Each tear drop drained hope out of his trembling body while he gripped onto the blood-red rose of the loved one laying at his feet. Dancing to the sorrow sound of the song of death as delicate as a diamond. The only sound that punctuated the sky was the screams of the past as he got chills down his spine. Every snowflake showered down onto the graceful rose. Ominous grey mist wrapped around the moaning man. Darkness engulfed the gloomy ominous sky as little snowflakes darted around the frozen air. The loneliness in his heart was punching him in the chest. Nothing could penetrate the deep walls of his emotion. A new life had begun as his beloved one was being forgotten; he wishes the past was still alive.
Tizi
Snowflakes pirouetted gracefully through the winter sky as a man sat on a park bench mourning to himself. In the distance, the darkness was covering him, like a black cloak. All happiness and hope had drained out of his body as he began thinking of his loved one. Trembling hands held the blood red rose that he had been given to by his beloved. His fingers traced over the velvet petals gently cradled in his hands as if it was a new-born baby, in his think fingers. He was blindly lost in his own world, as a pearl dripped down from his eyelid.
However, the world he was in was not this icy land which was surrounding him, but a lovely time back in spring. There were green shoots; blue skies; blossoming flowers he could see that same flower, except this time it was in a group and not on its own.
There was a beautiful lady, who was the beautiful lady who was bent over the blooms, gently tending them, removing the weeds that sprouted at their stems. As he stared, drinking in the very sight of her, he knew, without a doubt, that this was the person he would spend the rest of his life with. Her blonde hair shone in the sunlight, casting an aura around her. He smiled for a moment towards her and realised that she was gently blowing away the tresses of hair that covered her fragile face. With his heart full of joy he made his way towards the lady and knew that his life would now really begin.
And he had been right. His life with her had been as rich as he could imagine, gentle and fragile to. They had been lucky he thought, they had lived together for 50 years he would always treasure the memories they had had together. He sniffed, and slowly rose from the wooden bench which had been his resting place for that afternoon. With his eyes on the horizon, he took a deep breath and strode away towards the distant grave. Tomorrow, he would again rest on the bench but for now he would place the delicate flower by the grave of his wife.