The chime of the school bell,
A melody from a bygone time,
Whispers of days knee-high to my father,
A doll backpack, a blue uniform's chime,
And a round white hat nestled under my chin.

The old school window creaks,
A portal to memories unfurled.
A shortcut, not the door it seemed,
When I snuck in a bit late from the world.

Behind the teacher's desk, I would hide,
In my mother's lap, a whimper arose.
My courage shrank in front of my father's stride,
A tiny sprout yearning to grow.

There were times I stood waiting
By that worn and familiar door,
Hoping for a small coin, a sweet anticipating,
Enough to buy a treat, just for me,
A moment of joy beneath the morning dew ,

I open the old cupboard's maw,
Dusty books whisper tales untold.
Do I recall when their pages I'd draw?
Once, I carried them proudly, a burden so bold.

Holding back laughter, memories ignite,
Like a flame rekindled, a mischievous spark.
My heart aches with a bittersweet bite,
Recalling past sorrows that leave their marks.

Now my time is increasingly spent,
No more trees and walls to climb,
No more running away of homeworks,
Laughter a rarer, more precious sound.
Tears may come with a lighter descent,
Happiness harder on shifting ground.
More burdens I carry, a weight I now see,
But like seasons that change, so too will this flow.

Mother, now it's my turn to stand by you,
Sharing the weight with siblings as one.
Together, we'll keep the home's candle bright true,
A beacon of warmth till the setting sun.

Father, now I stand strong by your side,
Under the shade of the kapok tree's embrace.
Showering you fallen petals, a constant tide,
With love and prayers, a comforting grace.

#NostalgicVerse
© 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑧𝑎𝑤𝑖𝑐𝑐𝑎