Old School Days

Scribblings on forearms, solving math and laws,

Chided by teachers for our ink-smeared flaws.

Yet we walked home with swagger, no shame in the mess,

Tattooed with numbers, a scholar's careless finesse.

The sun shone bright when our scores were full,

Each step a march of triumph, confident and cool.

From the bus stop to home, we'd proudly stride,

Sharing tales of the day, with laughter as our guide.

The noon sun's heat, it never burned deep,

For the joy of returning home lulled us to sleep.

To Mum, we'd tell our stories, hearts alight,

Her warmth shielding us from the weight of the night.

Oh, life was beautiful in its old-school ways,

In the innocence of those carefree days.

By: Reine Preeam