She walks along the gravel road
Pens and pencils in her pack
Hoping she can find her way
Trepidation, don’t look back

A wooden desk marks her place
In a classroom down the hall
Step by step she makes her way
To a teacher, standing tall

She smiles and says good morning
As she enters in the room
The smile is not returned to her
She feels impending doom

She sits next to the window
The one without a drape
Wishing she was left outside,
She plots the great escape

Why did she leave the confort
Of her warm and comfy house?
She should have stayed in bed all day
As quiet as a mouse

Yet, here she is, regretting
This place, so full of strife
Locked inside the hallowed halls
She is ‘present’, in the school of life

©2016 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Photo: Pixabay