#WritcoPoemPrompt49 @AtulPurohit
The days of slate and chalk,
Are not easy to erase,
They hold memories,
Of my childhood,
Upon the walls and earth,
I express my desires as a child,
White my body looks,
Yet adorable to many.

We call it innocence,
Not carelessness,
It's the joy of wanting to know,
A feeling to explore,
A feeling to endure,
The joy of curiosity.

Dust or dirt,
All were materials,
To affirm the foundation,
For my future being,
As a Godly art of work.

The village was the gallery,
And the locals the artists,
That framed the tone of conduct,
The shade of responsibility,
And light of society.
© Bright Brain256