The Dirigible Balloon
Poetry for Children

After Home Time

Alarms are set.
The last key is turned
and a red-light trail leaves
the carpark.
A fox in the playground
stops
and cocks his head.

Inside the walls,
the hymns of a hundred years are being sung.

Bare feet patter across gym mats
and piano keys are bashed.
Tables are chanted. One four is four. Two fours are eight.

Muffled yells escape
from the room where the photocopier now sleeps
as a cane comes down
again and again and again.

Someone drops the milk.
Every night the bottles smash and crash and roll.

Slates scrape, chalk squeaks and pen lids drop.

Thuds of a fight in a forgotten room
land and land
…until the last one does.

Amen

Shuffling and clattering, gaggled groaning
a siren makes footsteps hasty
and doors open.

Silence

Only a spider in the boys’ toilet
is close enough to hear soft crying.
Still crying, unnoticed,
after all these years.

The others play.

In and out the dusty bluebells
the voices trill
and laugh.
The squeals from a lifetime of jokes and stories
escape the walls and join the dance.

A dance of ages.
Where different soles
keep the beat.

A beat that fades
with the lightening sky.

And the start of a new school day.

About the Writer


Rachel Burrows

Rachel is a mum and a teacher, but also a noticer of things. She loves standing still and absorbing - taking in the sounds, smells and secrets of our world. She has travelled far and is frequently found in pea-patches.