G Scoular blogs her poem ‘Straight A’s’

Straight A’s

 

A bright, wide smile on my shining face.

A vivid red satchel weighed like bricks on my shoulder.

A building of expectation, friendship and terror.

A blurred year of blissful unawareness.

A shroud of wild webbed willow encasing me.

A muffled giggle of the cackling crow.

A warm breeze, gently playing about my face.

An unnerving shriek of the whistle cutting through the dreamlike haze.

A new teacher, a new class, a new chapter.

A uniform too small, too tight.

A talk too awkward to question.

A life too strange to be real.

A day that should have never come.

A feeling that should have never been.

A song that should never be sung.

A play with a troubling final scene.

by G Scoular