Clutching the schoolbag, he sets out,
With shiny shoes and polished belt,
His heart so stout, no look of doubt,
He’ll see what’s seen, he’ll feel what’s felt.
.
He climbs aboard the yellow bus,
The bus that visits ‘maturity’,
He’ll see white rust, the classroom dust,
Which prepares him for the City.
.
You see, he’s quite unused to it,
This world of crime, this world of grime,
He loved these meadows, where would sit,
A world of rhymes, no place for time.
.
And yet his village sends him off
With passions too big for his back,
Into a life of suits and scoff,
To return with a huge green sack.
.
They say this sack will fix all
“But what’s broken?” was never asked
It’s said to bring you love and crawl,
Into your heart like a wine flask.
.
And love, of course, in this world is,
No heart’s affair, no place for lack,
But rather it’s a simple choice,
Of who carries the biggest sack.
He travels long and votes his king,
And sleeps alone with a magic Ring,
He forgets wings and larks that sing,
And wakes to a life of ‘meaning’
.
And yet, and now, his feet get slow,
It tires him, his sack’s green glow,
He sets it down, and looks down south,
A place where he had started out.
.
An orange sunset is calling
Away from crime, away from grime,
He stumbles back, where Autumn’s falling,
In flowers of rhymes, no place for time.