The Bell
There is a bell,
A pealing chime to signal
When everyone moves,
We are ruled by it's shrillness.
Like sleepwalkers we stand
When it clangs
And return to silence
At its command.
Teachers try to lead the processions:
'I will decide when the lesson ends,' they insist.
But they cannot compete
With The Bell.
YOU ARE READING
The Weight of Water
PoetryThis is not my story. This is an actual book written by Sarah Crossan. All rights go to her. Armed with a suitcase and an old laundry bag, Kasienka and her mother head for England. Life is lonely for Kasienka. At home, her mother's heart is brea...
