Zena

Zena

Thursday, March 31, 2011

The 3:00 Classroom

Gone are the high pitched
Squeals and giggles.
The low hum under the breath,
The scraping chairs
And tapping toes
Are echos in the void.
No response to the electric song
Of florescent lights.
No rebuttal as the clock
Counts out the minutes.
Just the unnatural silence
Of the classroom at rest.

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