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.