One Friday Afternoon in School

The last lesson on a Friday.I switched the lights on at 2.30 p.m.Outside the world was already darkAnd the hail began to splatter the windowsOn that bone-chilling winter’s day.I walked away from my desk towardsThe gloom which beckoned me –I remember the self-pity:O to walk out and never look back –My classroom would be bright with lightBut the dark would surely welcome me,Swallow me like Jonah and keep me safeFrom a storm of derision as my voiceCroaked and drowned in a sea of noise.If I turned to look like Lot’s wife,The buggers in the back few rowsWould be kids again.

For some weeks I had been fifty years old –Two score years and ten.The single syllables hammered my headAs I tried not to look at my watch.Time I must ignore – I must – I must,Or the minutes will linger like chronic pain.

I knew, at least, that the bell had no choice –It had to ring –But when I walked into the gloomThe wide world was just a dark narrow lane.