when the classroom’s dark and cold
The corridors will echo on the early Monday mornings,
Sounds bowling down the buffed and polished floors
Like single snooker balls, clacking and whispering,
Following you to the door you’ve come to love,
Your sanctuary, but today it’s cold and dark,
The chill, like fingers gripping at your flesh
As you fumble for the heating switch.
Let there be light
And sound, as the computer whirs to life
Blinking sleepily, remembering
It’s time to work, to plaster on that smile
Forget the weekend’s drinking and it’s arguments
And immerse yourself in teenage drama mixed
With Shakespeare and some poetry,
A warm and lovely bath of ancient words.