Temp1261

Deep within Jakarta, there is a café With a large white awning catching raindrops that fall It is filled with aromas, sweet round 'noon of the day Mugs of hot liquid; a short respite for all. At the rush hour of the day, from the freezing cold The people come in, to and fro like a flowing river Some tall and some small, some young and some old Arrive, hoping to escape the misty grey veil that makes them shiver. I sit at my table in the Café Studying, reflecting on the faces of people going by Wondering where they go everyday Sometimes wondering if I should maybe say "Hi." Deep set lines on a weathered face, tell a millio

On bare white rock still, Sharp eyes that see on and on, Forever watching. __________________________ Dirty white mugs full, Grey walls in a confined space, Working endlessly. __________________________ Staring down abyss, A crumbling foundation sighs, Beauty in sadness. __________________________ Hammer and anvil, Struck with much force and great strength, Until iron is cast. __________________________ With defeated will, A broken heart, cold with chill, The soul begins to weep.

                                Michael sat at the back of his classroom. His desk was tucked away in a corner, beside a large window. He liked his seat. He liked the fact that, because he sat in this seat, and because he was so quiet, the teacher never asked him a question. He was content with his seating placement. The problem for Michael was that he didn't like his teacher. Not one bit. In fact, he hated his teacher. His teacher was probably too old to teach and wore the same clothes