
I sit in the class
with all my best friends
laughing at their silly jokes
when I look behind
to find
my parents asking
why I am not packing.
So I walk to my drawer
and pull out all I own–
my bed and study table,
my colours and pencils,
drawing board and birthday cards,
letters and flowers,
and a stapler
to tie it all together
in a shoe box
that I’d carry to my new home.
I turn around one last time.
My friends disappear
one-by-one
in the rapidly darkening hall.
I hunt for a candle to light
so I won’t lose their sight
but there is none to find.
I feel no fear,
only deep inevitable pain,
an emptiness in my gut,
on losing
all that mattered the most.
I wake up choking on my tears
like every time
I dream of the days from the past.