Back To School

Pictures spring up as memories unfold

of braided hair and oiled crew-cuts each morn.

The brown canvas shoes and long socks unroll.

A badge of truth broached on beige uniform.

With a khaki bag strapped, trudge the lazy

to the gates where our pillars of fate stood.

And, if school bells not awake the dozy,

shrills of the short-fused gardener surely would.

But when a white chalk squeaked on wide black board-

a hush screened the class, now filled with riddles.

Silent and shy we sat – in pretense bold

until the teacher defogged the scribbles.

Tho years fly by, the knowledge not age-

mischief remains, laughter still the language.

This entry was posted in Poetry on by .

About Rahul Aithal

I am from Mumbai, India. Composing poems gives me immense pleasure. Few poetic sites I write on are -,, and, recently Avant-Garde-Writer's Haven (on Facebook). You could browse my other writes on my private blog, I am glad to have joined this site, thanks to Louis. I hope to add value and get the group going.

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