A teenage girl comes back home from school,
With a load of exhaustion upon her shoulders.

She drops her huge backpack to the floor rug,
She kicks her shoes out of her feet onto the rug,
To breathe, she drops her tie onto the rug too,
Her head band, her jacket and her body too,
She drops it all into the floor rug.
She takes out her notebook from her backpack,
Dropping it to the floor with an open page and a pen,
She then puts down the ‘little’ light in her day,
Her first swimming game with its trailer joy,
Her victorious A+ mark on her Monday quiz,
And one girl who was nice to her for once.
She suddenly puts down some tears into the rug,
The daily stabs of bullyism and judgement,
The faint memories of her parents before the accident,
The smell of her mother’s freshly-baked cookies,
The sound of the machine brewing her dad’s coffee,
The “meew” of her late favourite cat,
The dark forest of loneliness in the foster centres,
The smell of hope burning down into ashes.
She puts down her craving for love and care,
Her need for tenderness and belonging,
Just one more time in a home with parents,
To be hugged tightly by familiar blood.
And the floor rug is open to carrying her,
To give her a taste of some rest in this life,
Every afternoon after she returns ‘home’,
As she also appreciates its patience with her,
And her notebook, her tears and her pain.