Miss, call me miss!

Uniform pressed and shoes shone.
Marched to school in military fashion.
Nervous as hell as the bell tolled…
Ink well and quill charged  
Blotting paper to hand
Chin up, back straight,
Don]t slouch boy came her 
Loud monotone voice.
Commencing at the front 
Chasing down towards me
The eerie echo that haunts my present.
Smirk replaced with a lasting frown.
She there with her bun 
Held in place with an ivory needle
Scorn etched permanently
On her ageing face.
Chalk marred hands,
Cracks within brandishing
Her ruler to govern, her rules, her space.
She flicked it with menace across your palm,
I remember the look of the hag steeped with anger
Her false teeth grinding
Making my every bone chatter.
Dressed in black cloth,
Like a rendered widow 
As yet not parted from her mission…

© munster 2020
no comments or critique sought.
Subscribe
Notify of
0 Comments
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments
Flag Content