An Old School Boy


An Old School Boy

He attends a school
that seems never young.
An old school, it is.
My son is an old school boy.
Its fabric is brick and ivy,
and in spring purple wisteria
climbs freely to the roof.
Its dark wooden stairs
and rails are stained of
salutations and gravity,
lessons buried in walls,
recited echoes in the halls,
and all is a tribute to its
eminent respectability.
These little boys who chase
across fields, chasing balls,
and dressed as men in
woollen jackets
and old school ties.



Inspired from Found text in Bleak House
by Charles Dickens, and recollections
of January 1991, Surrey, UK





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