Sophie Trussell “Protection from the Hands of Time”

PROTECTION FROM THE HANDS OF TIME ____________________________________________________________ by Sophie Trussell, Grade 9

The final product results in A magnificent art piece:

Wood moulded into seamless drawers, A glossy topcoat, Lathered overtop the red oak that lays beneath, Submerging into the precise Grooves and channels— Creating an elegant pattern That patrols the perimeter.

The measurements, Meticulously finalized, Produce a composition Lasting decades to come. Art from the past Obliterates into thin air, Depriving a life they once possessed.

No traces adhere Without the cultivating glue of preservation.

Tick. Tick. Tick. The clock speaks in class. New, now old. Blackboards, now smart. Pencils, now markers. Notebooks, now laptops.

Time gallops by With no intention of halting. The past collapses with every tick.

The feeling of isolation While being circled by peers, Asking themselves constantly, “Why don’t I belong?”

The world advances At a rapid pace, At an uncontrollable rate, Leaving one behind: The person at the desk.

This desk, which was crafted With such preservation in mind, Shielding the child From grasping hands of time.