we
wrote our names on blackboards
using
chalk in white and pastel hues
while
dividing numbers
the
smell entering my nose
white
dust covering my fingers
I
still remember standing next
to
my classmates – some
gone,
others living far away,
yet
the memory remains
- Written for dVerse Quadrille #150:Chalk it up to Poetry and Writer's Digest 2022 April PAD Challenge: Day 18
I feel this....feel it, and the friends I used to have....a real sadness.....
ReplyDeleteI can still smell chalk when I think of this. And hear erasers clapping at recess. I love where this took you.
ReplyDeleteI know this feeling very well. Whan I started teaching in 1969 my classroom had a wall of slate blackboards. I used chalk that would cause the skin on my fingers to dru out and crack.
ReplyDeleteI, too, remember writing in chalk. Rewriting for each class, actually. Thanks for sharing these memories.
ReplyDeleteThose kinds of memories keep us grounded I think. When chaos reigns, we cling to them. Beautiful poem.
ReplyDeleteI can relate to this one!
ReplyDeleteSincerely,
David [ben Alexander]
Thank you everyone 🙂
ReplyDelete