All the kids are gone.
Locker doors hang open.
Old worksheets and pages torn from spiral notebooks
Trodden into grimy gray litter
Peek out of corners and lay in random islands scattered across the floor.
Hanging on a hook here is a woe begotten jacket.
There, an empty book bag.
A class change bell echoes unattended through the darkened hall.
The spring break happiness of children
Leaves the lonely building silent
Anticipating the joy of their return.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
this poem breathes spring.