Parkes Hall Primary School – Paul Elwell

From this distance

beyond the fence

the bricks and mortar

are still the same;

squat, rectangular

unpretty,

made in the no-frills fifties –

as was I.

 

There I went

to feast at the table of learning,

devouring something new each day;

to read, to write, to play, to build,

to draw, to sing, to grow

and always unsuspecting

how little I knew.

 

The low neat privet hedge

is now wild and tall enough

to obliterate the building

from the road

as I pass by.

 

I resist the urge to stop

and revisit,

fearing that on re-opening the door

there’ll be rooms full of kids

older and stranger

like me.

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