#WritcoPoemPrompt49 @AtulPurohit
The days of slate and chalk,
Are not easy to erase,
They hold memories,
Of my childhood,
On the blank slate,
I have written my future,
dozen of times,
The chalk comes to the end time to time,
But I was still there writting on my slate,
In hope of a good future,
I rubbed the slate once again,
My hands tainted by white dust,
I looked at my friends face
and there was a sudden urge,
With the white dust all over our faces,
we ruined back home,
Looking back,
The days of chalk and dust,
Are not easy to erase,
they hold memories,
of my childhood.


© Homesick1872