Faded visions of the classroom linger.
A blackboard cowers, engrained with ancient dust,
remains of lessons that were never learned.
But a felt-pad wiper-block will rush to smear
chalk mistakes into oblivion, while floorboards
beneath the easel creak a protest at elusive
ghosts of teachers' calligraphic dances.
The battle-scarred desks, disfigured by generations
of rambunctious youth with tear-stained touch,
stand row on row, their lids poised for action.
Empty inkwell eyes challenge intruders -
"Only pencils allowed for budding authors!"
Paper scented, the air scribbles notes
to the nostrils," You will remember me."
This weeks bus driver is Karen of Keeping Secrets - Why not go and see other passengers who will be spilling the beans?