I Wish We Had Known, When We Left, That We Were Leaving

When I left the high school for the last time on Friday, March 13 I thought we’d be closed for a week. Maybe Two. I told my students to enjoy the week off. I didn’t bother saying goodbye to the students I didn’t have that day. I left a water bottle in my room. I left a stack of papers, ungraded. I left a sweater. I left homework written on the board. I miss my students. I miss even the annoying ones. I miss the busy halls and filled-up lunchroom. I miss the hectic joy of graduating seniors. I wish we knew, when we left, that we were leaving Because now we’re gone And the school is a ghost town But the ghosts have all left.