Written in 1983.
Cobwebs hang from the drawers.
The empty seat
covered with dust
sits abandoned
by the desk.
Death
now sits here
looking at thirty desks
aligned in six rows.
No more do children laugh
in this place.
No more does teacher teach
the students.
The Apple
perfectly red
sits
untouched
by dust
or web.
Alone
The Apple does not age.
Forever
is
The Apple.