Annilla

Cheerfulness, to the rear of her always,
Sometimes transparent,
Happiness occasionally apparent,
Unannounced to us writing our essays.

Only seen when we’re high-sprung,
After class.
Middle class,
Amongst rich kids who bun.

She serves school cuisine,
The foul taste in our tongue
As she has thoughts of her young,
The father takes off, leaving his gene.

She seems to be the only one working,
Hard.
Her husband barred,
Everyone leaves, the only one left lurking.

By Oliver Finnegan
17/02/2019