I remember them days <br />back in the school yard <br />started bored, scraping my rubber soles <br />On the hard, rough, dirty black tarmac. <br /> <br />It would be 8.55 a.m. <br />I was in school first <br />the sweet tunes of the birds' songs <br />amplified in every corner of the yard <br /> <br />it was a wide square <br />with low walls on one side <br />following a trail up to the sports shed <br />door and front walls made by my father <br /> <br />someone would hide the torn <br />ripped sponge balls soaking <br />up the rain it rolled through <br />hidden in an isolated prickly bus <br /> <br />with the principal relaxing, drinking coffee <br />making his breath stench <br />like blue bread <br />we'd take out the ball and play <br /> <br />many times the principal took the balls <br />but we'd soon be loaded again like a gun <br />playing football against the office wall <br />almost a morning routine. <br /> <br />At lunch the jokes were shared <br />playing games football again <br />and the mayhem arose <br />teachers getting into scraps <br /> <br />with students writing about them <br />on t-shirts, principal's <br />face poppy red anger rushing through <br />the pulsating veins <br /> <br />there were fights oh Lord they were <br />two messers two families <br />from different backgrounds whatever really <br />nothing was the biggest <br /> <br />their sizes or the fights <br />but it's the little things that <br />peck away like woodpeckers at the back <br />of my mind. <br /> <br />Them memories <br />stuck to me like glue, <br />those times <br />back in the school yard.<br /><br />A.J. Ryan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/back-in-the-school-yard/
