Study Hall

January 6, 2009
By Ashabari Mukherjee, Hoffman Estates, IL

Half way through the day,
when the end is drawing near.
I go down two flights of staris.
I sit.

The room's impending silence envelopes me.
The occasional squeak of desks and closing of books is a sound, that, in this frightenin quiet, is like the sound of a bullet piercing the air.
I sit. I work.

Suddenly, a clamor ensues
from various books, zippers, and squeaky desks.
four minutes left to the bell as everyone scurries like little tiny mice trying to get everything together.
I sit. I pack.

At last, the bell rings and whoosh!
I am gone.
I leave the hall of silence and enter the gregarious halway.
Gone is the eeire quite and the eternal gloom. I am done. Done with study hall.
I am free.


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This article has 1 comment.


on Jan. 22 2009 at 12:33 pm
Hey Ashabari!!



I love your poem!! Now I want to read more.

Guess who?!? A friend from school! :)


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