Primary School

This room is much smaller than I remember.
The wood on the floor is the same.
As the spray of sunlight streams through painted windows,
I recall my blue eyes, watching the rain.

My legs hurt crossed.
The squeak of the pumps
as we ran with bean bags.
Played with hoops.
That wax floor smell,
and tomato soup.
The big bell rang at play time's end.
Stories, and songs sung together.
Lessons forgotten.
Friends made forever.

It's all gone now, my teachers are dead.
The memories fresh and cool in my head.
It's nice to re-visit my school and play,
in that place long ago and far far away.

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.