The Schoolroom


Mouths chewing in a mechanical rhythm,
that ripple shadows
on whitewashed walls
and etched wooden desks
with the history of well worn names
scribbled by pens
bent over the latest task.
Not a sound can be heard-
no, not a sound
save the fire raging
in beating hearts.


Copyright © 2014 by Kate W J White (All Rights Reserved)

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