Daniel T.

Rushing down the creaky stairs,

to the raucous sound of sliding chairs.

Tired feet stumble into battered shoes,

as another one reads what’s now old news.

Heavy steps weigh down on an old brick walk,

“We must go now; there is no time to talk”.

The delicate shut of a heavy car door,

rubber skidding and the slam of two more.

Blood pumping fast through restless veins,

weaving in and out of bustling traffic lanes.

approaching the stoplight near quarter to eight,

the loathsome beacon determines my fate.

Pulling tightly around corners and screeching ahead,

the fast-ticking clock brings anxiety and dread.

Steering toward the curb, we all jump out,

a half-hearted goodbye and an excited shout.

Barely on time, and in complete disarray,

I prepare myself for the monotony of the day.