Nine o'clock Beauty
A Saturday evening, the day of my year: beautiful, extraordinary, superb in every single detail. The trees swaying in the light, soothing wind, my Dad lying there in front of me almost asleep like a baby with toy rabbits on top of him as a joke. The waves in the pool rapidly repeating again and again, the stars like bright spots scattered on a black body. Lamp posts as gloomy and still as a startled rabbit in the middle of the road. The lamp above the patio with a curtain, creating an Indian palace for worshipping the night gods.
Quick note: He was working on this before the lesson started - it is very much his own work, written to capture a wonderful moment, and not much influenced by school or by me. I helped him keep the structure and encouraged him to think about rhythm - that's all.