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The Orange Table
I sit on the Orange Table.
Not the Red or Blue or Green.
This is where Miss has put me
and I think I know what it means.
It means my writing’s not too good.
It means I cannot spell.
I don’t know if they know I know
but I only know too well.
I sit on the Orange Table.
It’s where I’ve sat all year.
I can’t do Maths or Science
they say, and so they put me here.
I’m not so hot at school work,
which means I’m not too smart
so I sit on the Orange Table
so I can be kept apart.
I sit on the Orange Table.
They say that this is best.
But they can’t see the orange fire
that burns inside my chest.
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