The Old Schoolhouse
IT stands mellow bricked and quietIn the shadows of sheltering treeslong ago they chanted their tableson sunny afternoons,chalk and slate on aproned lapsand white collared boysdreamed of home and tea.
Mitterned hands on winter mornings
drew patterns in the snow
deep grained benches, desks with initials
beneath the lids
I remember the bent head of a girl
blue ribbons tumbling from her hair.
Memories of childhood days
marbles, whip and top, playground hours
careless were we then of time
no tomorrow only now.
Small feet skipping
joyous through the hours
does the laughter linger there
In empty rooms
of whispered secrets, friends and dreams,
treasured days I remember well.
Catherine Neale