In the quietude of after-school hours,
I visited alone.
The courtyard was a place where stories were born, and memories were made.
Kids I knew made up the game of court-ball here.
The upper and lower playgrounds were separated by slanted garden areas.
Huddling in the lilac bushes, I spent many recesses.
I skinned my knee tripping on a ball over there.
On the ground in a corner,
are rusted paperclips, weeds, lost treasure bits, and
a flattened rubber ball.
The wind rustles a bird's feather
lost in flight.
The huge pine tree still stands at the front of the school grounds.
Boughs cut farther up the tree now,
but they were touching the ground when I hid there.
I had many moments of happiness outside.
Inside, I remember the smell of the old radiators
drying clothes in the winter.
Skipping stairs on the big staircases
from the top floor to the bottom.
Beth hurt her ankle once.
Kind teachers, and good lunches,
I often begged for a fresh baked roll
at first recess.
The original building has been torn down now,
but I often dream about my childhood there.
I miss the simplicity, and safety it gave me.
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