A poem written by an Ealing student was awarded best poem in the south east and published in the Young Writers Anthology.

Year 11 student Iqra Ismai, who attends Featherstone High School, in Southall , beat off competition from 322 other students in the south east to win the accolade, presented by Young Writers on Thursday (April 14).

The 15-year-old's poem, called "Trick of the Light", will now be entered into the country-wide competition.

English Teacher, Ms Friswell, said: "Iqra is an inspirational writer with a unique flair for poetry, her interesting outlook on the world shines through."

Students from around the country were asked to write a poem on any theme and to express their passion in poetry.

One of her teachers said about the poem: "It is about enjoying the moment - but knowing that even the most beautiful moments cannot last.

"It is just a 'Trick of the light' - takes you away from reality for that short space of time."

Headteacher, Mr Wadwa, added: "We are exceptionally proud of Iqra who, alongside her many sporting and other academic achievements, has managed to win the South East Poets category against some very talented competion."

Young Writers is an organisation who have worked with schools, parents and young writers across the world for over two decades.

Their aim is to promote poetry and creative writing and they run annual competitions, produce poetry and creative writing collections as well as providing resources for teachers and young writers.

Here's the full poem:

Stunning how a summer breeze can carry away our worries,

Gives us peace of mind,

Truly those worries are only hidden in the whispering winds,

Yet, we are indifferent.

It is said when an artist changes this fleeting world for an immortal rest,

The sky becomes their canvas,

Cobalt-blue blends and bends in a tireless tango with a burning magenta,

Way lay motionless, our wait anxious.

Heavy breathing encases our perch,

Eyes focused, we could not be put off,

The trees purred in a tranquil unison,

Dangers long forgotten.

Any yet, when this fateful dance draws to a half,

When the last note is played,

Our dilemmas creep up on us,

A slow death with a tireless grip.

Forgotten moments slither back from the depths of our minds to haunt us,

Ruthless in their ways.

A trick of the light can only hold our attention for so long,

Before reality weaves its way into our more comfortable of bubbles and bursts even that.

Our unspoken fondness for the summer’s evening may never fade,

Blissful moments need never mend,

Alas, like a first love and our last breath,

All good things must come to an end.