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The Classroom Speaks
The walls lean in, murmuring secrets of weary days,
while chairs sigh beneath tired bodies.
Words from hollow lips strike like stones—
they refuse to soften, echoing in empty corners.
My lessons pulse with purpose, glowing faintly in the dust,
each one breathes life into silent desks.
They wait, expectant—hungry for curious eyes.
Even the blackboard leans forward,
eager to share every truth I’ve etched across its surface.
Though some voices build barriers—cold, unyielding,
my teaching-self stands firm,
a steady heartbeat among shifting shadows.
I may not linger here forever,
but as long as education breathes,
my footsteps leave a soft rhythm—
a promise echoing beyond my departure.
Until my final exhale,
I become the silent sentinel:
each wall, each chair, each lesson
alive with all that is just and right.
Copyright ©
Rowena Velasco
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