#WritcoPoemPrompt49 @AtulPurohit
The days of slate and chalk,
Are not easy to erase,
They hold memories,
Of my childhood,

In doors of present they knock,
Then fetch me back, to my past place,
Its pining mines those reveries,
too chasmic, in my heartwood.

I crave to be called by cuckoo clock,
to bath in morn’s frost dew sprays,
then bask sun in the assembly jeffreys,
And bolt to the class like a dachshund.

Where five in a bench we fit and squawk,
In mentors blackboard we found place,
Ruler knew less, our miseries,
As teacher swung that hardwood.

Wish to sit again and stalk,
Daydream lovers first embrace,
Share with them my treasuries,
That bloomed in garths of adulthood.

Those days I rushed out,like a hawk,
When chimes of last bell flared that pace,
All that I rushed from in vagaries,
figured out now were my childhood.

Once again I wish to mock,
To sit by your desk,as coup de grace,
To look back the way you did,shivery
To check my reply in likelihood.

Once again to sit and talk,
Yet once again to do that chase,
Once again spy bakeries,
And once again stay where I stood.

Once again I wish that walk,
Yet once again in this rat race,
Once again knew no remedies,
Yet wish to wish that days, so good.

Sprint like a bee thats far from flock,
Over my schooldays still I gaze,
Oozing no nectar from those floweries,
Where dew mask of past withstood.

Rushed back past in realms ad hoc,
To take those notes of classes my sleep efface,
Stood there soulless at my treacheries,
Dusted board gazed my manhood...


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