A Month in Autumn - 06
Big School
New academic year.
New uniform, way too big.
She says I will grow into it.
The walk to the end of the close
Is now a cycle ride of an hour.
The freedom of tiny hands
Has given way to wrestling
A bag of trainers and pens.
The pens have already leaked.
The friends from my neighbourhood
No longer around.
New friends and foes appear.
What’s my name? What phone have I got?
The comfort of the form and our teacher
Has given way to a tutor I don’t know.
Colour sweeping the walls
Given way to drab notices in very small print.
There is a timetable
With rooms illogically numbered
So they remain hidden.
Nervous anticipation tingles through the body.
This time next week it will be like a dream
And the well-scrubbed intake become academe.
Reluctant, tentative and nobody’s fool,
This time next week the distant memory of little school.
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