Raindrops patter,
On the dust-caked glass.
As well as down below,
On the damp earth and grass.
I retrace my steps,
Down the dark empty hall.
Stopping when I hear voices,
A mystery I cannot solve.
Depression clings to me,
As I enter the silent classroom.
Sweep away, I wish I could,
All those memories, with a broom.
Time changes its garb,
As the silence speaks its own lexicon.
Lively, the classroom again
In shines the sun.
Midst the chatter of a million,
I am all alone.
My thoughts soar away,
Like bubbles in the air blown.
I exit the empty place,
The sun in my mind sets like a dream.
My thoughts shattered, lay like broken glass at my feet,
As I trudge back to my dreary realm.
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