Ding, ding, ding, ding

 

Voices say “See you later!” or “Let’s go!”

Chairs and desks and bags and people

shuffle around one white room

with walls covered in posters and papers

that try to cover the monotone

but it doesn't work.

 

Ding, ding, ding, ding

 

Outside, the thump thump thump

of feet desperately moving

toward a white room,

and away from a loud bellow

of “GO TO CLASS!”

 

Ding, ding, ding, ding

 

It has started, the early morning

that rudely jostled the poor child

from a short nap

after a too long night.

The television is on, but no one listens

because it is the same

as it was yesterday.

There is an adult, as they call them,

in front of the whiteboard

writing symbols, some recognized,

some forgotten, others incomprehensible.

Hands diligently record each symbol

to force-feed to a bloated brain

at a later time.

Time moves on

eyes move on

from the whiteboard on the white wall

to the black clock above it.

 

Tick, tick, tick, tick

 

The minute moves

the second as well

but the hour seems glued at the axel.

And so they wait, each minute reeling

the prized hour closer.

Bags are zipped now, pencils and pens

tap silently on desks.

 

Ding, ding, ding, ding

 

Another shuffle of feet

out, out, out

and then in, in, in

another white room, walls

with posters and papers

to try to cover the monotone

but it doesn't work.

 

Ding, ding, ding, ding

 

Another round.

Waiting, waiting, forever waiting

for what?

Who knows? Perhaps those

who never left rooms

to see what color there is

beyond the posters and papers

that try to cover the monotone

of the white walls.

It doesn't work.