Jubilee Poem

The queen stands,
tall and proud,
she does not sit,
she waves to the crowd

For they have gathered,
for 60 years,
to see love, to see hate,
to see laughter and tears.

In 60 years,
lots has flown by,
but she now grows old,
soon to say goodbye.

Lonely.

As the day draws to a close, the school bus waits outside the tall rusty metal gates. The bell rings loudly and the boys flee from their classrooms, free from the grasp of teachers and textbooks. Some wait for the girls from the school down the road, others plug in their music and start to wander home. However, the majority bundle onto the bus; the bus driver patiently waits, quietly, the day is almost over, just a little longer. The students fight for their seats, like a pride of lions competing for their prey. The new students linger at the back of the queue, not daring to challenge the social code; but secretly they know one day they will be able to choose where they sit and not be in the firing line of mouldy sandwiches and chewing gum.
He sits alone. Three seats back, his bag slung sideways across the seat next to him, indicating his wishes to be antisocial. He knows he has Maths homework to do for tomorrow and he has to re-draft his English notes so they are legible, but its a dangerous game. With his neatly ironed uniform, chunky glasses and A* grades, you have to be careful, one wrong move and everything will go wrong. In his pocket is a small MP3, nothing fancy like all the other kids, but its old and reliable, with all his favourite tunes. In his hand is a small and tatty old A5 notepad, its secured with a padlock, which seems pathetic, but it was highly classified. it contained his deepest thoughts, most hurtful feelings and forbidden secrets.

It was lonely. New house, new neighbours, new school, new life... But you cannot run from everything.