The Pickled Egg

The silence of Monday

In the afternoon school
Of post-war corridors and faraway voices
Curly-edged snapshots barely there
Bleaching in the sun
A garden calendar, two months out of date
The trinkets that make the vacations worthwhile -
The coffee mug, the coaster, the bring-home cards
The severest teachers sleep in the foredusk
Others must tiptoe in unison
Faded stickers and yellowed sellotape
The only remains of a forgotten occasion
A lady's new shoes on the polished steps

posted by Kenyon @ 4:08 pm