School

The smell of fresh new spelling books
And binders, clean and lined —
A promise to keep up this year,
And not to get behind —

The first day of a whole new life
Is how it seemed, each year —
And hopefulness to better do
Was thoroughly sincere —

For school was beautiful, but hard,
A constant daily quandary,
With battles often lost, but which
I still remember fondly

For all the promise it contained,
And what that represented:
That schools contain our highest hopes,
But then are oft

Resented

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

2 thoughts on “School”

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