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Hot afternoon sun beats
through sealed sash windows. Lands on furniture filled with generations of
initials. Smell of cedarwood pencils.
sun sears letters
carved in a wooden desktop
Will Mark Joe Fred Paul
Royal blue blazers over
chair backs. We swelter. Our teacher hangs her navy jacket with the Red Cross
badge neatly over
her chair. Stands before
white hair, navy skirt, white blouse, book marked open at the right page.
She reads to us through pearly spectacles. War poets. Sun grows stronger.
A couple of boys in the
back row whisper. Slam! Do we know that these men gave their lives for us?
Burning sun through glass. Do we know her
his? The silence.
red poppies in the playground