by Jim Farfaglia
A Classroom In August
All the desks have been scrubbed clean,
their shiny faces looking up,
searching for their school year friend.
There’s a chair at each desk,
its legs politely tucked under,
patiently waiting to offer its support.
The cubbies stand along one wall,
only their memories hanging within,
anxious to be filled again with purpose.
The pencil sharpener has been polished
and its belly emptied,
hungry to grind out a day’s work.
The red, white and blue, ever at attention,
pledges a bright beginning
for the days to come.
And the Teacher’s desk sits,
looking out over the silent rows,
ready to lead the way.