The Wind touches everything,
From the velvety brown dusty old pieces of strayed homeless paper on the tiles,
Through the suspended legs of chairs left unsupervised;
The Wind touches all.
The class is gushing with memories,
With suppressed sobs,
Broken only by the crushing stillness.
The Wind forgets there are walls,
And barred windows.
Lay your weary flesh down on this desolate land,
This post is under copyright.
P.s. Written inspired by the ending scene in the classroom in the movie called #Detachment