THE WOODEN DESK

If a wooden desk in a classroom could talk..

The morning sun ascends in

the skies;

the day is in it’s youth, descending

upon the optimist’s eyes.

With a smile, with a temper;

with a sigh,with laughter,

they enter the door of wisdom bearing

satchels;

like a burden for their adolescent

shoulders.

They whine,they snore;

they yawn,they explore.

Some arrive with an appetite

for learning;

while some arrive leaving

their minds vacant for dreaming.

She makes her entrance in great triumph;

like Caesar returning victorious

defeating the sons of Pompeii.

For some this caused the minds

to riot;

while for some,this was like

a nightingale’s sweet symphony.

Reviews

[Terpsichore]

It's where the high and vital task of knowledge shared begins the journey of the child who will become the man.


If those initial scarred old wooden desks could talk, they would indeed have a fascinating tale to tell.

T