SCHOOLDAYS

I remember him well, with his long horse’s skull of a face

and the sad suffering eyes.

We lived in fear of him, with his ‘quick draw’  belt  -  no strolling  over to the top drawer of his desk for him, no, he carried it with him at all times rolled up in his pocket, a black coil of pain readily leaping to hand.

Sad, really that it’s this bleak picture one has of him, for I’m told that in later years

He became quite a successful poet:

wandering Elysium fields filling buttercups with sunlight;

friend to birds and toads;

they even say he was very humorous  -  hard to believe this of our old antagonist.

Pondering it, I can only believe that he, like us, just didn’t want to be there!

school's back:
street
of tiny dramas