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Missing pages

 

I miss how we used to write the book.

Complete with dog-eared pages; my

Scrawly red handwriting; and

Random bookmarks marking the best times.

 

I miss the sweet inky spill of dawn, 

Glazing the old seven-thirty days

When classroom bells called for sunshine

And breaths blew across in soft, warm rays.

 

Now this chapter feels incomplete

When we do YouTube fieldwork and

Strum inv s ble strings in concert band and

Talk to the RGB pixelled-, rectangled- new you.

 

I spot a silent cyclone gathering intensity

Unleashing its full force

Only on 22/10/2021. O Levels Day.

Destroying everything I had ever studied. The book binding                                                           breaks.

You wonder, I wonder, who will be next? 

He, she, they? You, me?

 

Sunshine-baked smiles are fraying into white.

We are now just a blur of moving colours,

Not really knowing what’s next in sight.

 

Miss, I wish we could reshelve this semester,

This e-book is missing so many pages; is devoid of so many colours. 

But for today, I’ll just keep writing these colours

With you. Thank you. See you tomorrow, back in school.

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