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Bella Isaacs May 2020
Messy ink, ragged paper, dust
I laid them down to gather dust
And came back to them only now
Sorting, sitting, wondering how
A few weeks ago these worksheets
Were my world, these were feats
Of daily effort to a common goal
Now, never to be touched by all of us at all.
And saying “To think...” to my sister, who didn’t hear,
And likely never will, I all but let go of a single tear.
My first A Level paper was due to be sat next Friday, and now that will never happen, and it is likely that none of my year will ever go back to school.

— The End —