Read this passage, written by Greg in Year 6 in response to studying 'The Highwayman' by Alfred Noyes.
The desolate landscape of the moor was being enclosed by a weather-front of dark and dreary clouds. Gradually, the magical lunar light cast over the expansive moor. As the death-defying clap of forked lightning embedded itself in the ancient moor, you could just about see a desolate oak; waving, beckoning someone to shelter under its comforting canopy.
As fast as a cheetah, the highwayman’s horse came galloping through the moor. The hooves echoed. The horse was as strong as iron and as powerful as a tank.
Abruptly the highwayman stopped in front of the silhouetted inn. He had been riding for three hours without rest and was sweating as if a sauna of water had been tipped over him. Restlessly, his horse shivered at the tremendously load roar of thunder. The exhausted man and beast clattered onto the cobbled courtyard.