Gold Day. Formerly A Day. Day 40.

Today there is only emptiness where the wind once pushed dreams as fast as rabbits across the plains.

Now expectations of hope are dry as dunes in the desert and piled twice as high. I have naught but to quench my thirst but the tears of the forgotten and the lost. The wails of regret deafen me as together with my progeny, my soul within a soul, bound together in the grade book I place a zero where once a whole should have been. And so the whole, that is forsaken, creates a hole in the bond that holds fast teacher and student. And probably a few choice administrators.

I

cannot

grade

as

fast

as

you

can

fail

FIN