I walked back to school today,
The same old road, the crooked way,
An empty building stared back at me,
Alone stood in the yard that enormous tree.
I see no teachers, no children at all,
Still quietly walk down the 4th floor hall.
At the end of the corridor is my class,
I sit on a bench and look through History’s glass.
I spent twelve years here, the best time of m life,
Learnt every emotion, experienced joy and strife.
I grew up here, within these walls,
Still, sitting here, again my childhood calls.
On that broken benches scribbled a love story,
Of young love budding in the S ♥ P,
Or maybe a boring, early morning lecture,
Made someone draw that nasty picture.
Suddenly I see the room come alive,
I’m with my old friends, I give a high-five.
That dog-eared book is lying in front of me,
A little note written on page 63.
On the black board emerge 12 years of learning,
A physics question paper, my stomach starts churning.
Studying all night, we cleared paper after paper,
With one nocturnal companion, the coffee-maker.
I remember my last day, a cold winter morning,
Filling out those diaries, that T-shirt signing.
I met all my teachers; to my heart they are dear,
We said goodbye, a brief hug, a silent tear.
A sudden noise somewhere, and out of my reverie I shook,
Walking out of the class, I turned to give one last look.
I leave a part of me inside, a part of my school I take.
On this grain of the past, a future I will make.
2 months ago