Memories

I walked past the darkened hall

Where I had answered my first roll call

It was still in use by the school

As a dressing room for the pool.

I sat on the doorstep, wiped my eyes

The floor was as cold and hard as ice.

I looked all over for a sign of my childhood

All had been long sold as wood.

My companion for all these years

The comforting right that dispelled my fears

Was the banyan tree in the park

That was mercilessly cut down in the dark.

I had one last hope

When I opened the door, there she was

Old and frail she may have been

But she still looked an elegant Queen.

My teacher, My mentor, My guiding light

Who held my respect with her grand might

We sat and talked for hours on the end

And she was still waving when I turned the bend.

I’ve thought about it day in and day out

And in my mind there is no shadow of doubt

The biggest prize for me that day

Was the knowledge of where my memories lay.

Not in my desk, not in my chair

Not in the scent that fills the air

But in my teacher’s story of strife

It is people, not things that make up life.