Mitchell Street Junior School, Revisited

I am the common man,
Around since time began.
My flesh and blood and bones
Are trees and earth and stones.
My childhood haunts survive
Even look the same, though changed,
They come to me now
And stand before me, ranged
In nostalgic splendour, as they never were.

Mitchell Street school,
It's flaking paint and shabby majesty
Evoke infant voices raised in song
And sunlight, filtering the chalk dust.
Once more, we are running home,
Duffel coats worn as cloaks.
We were little Ivanhoes,
With unwashed faces
And well scuffed toes.

In truth, I am still the child,
Though the gates are locked and rusted
And the weeds are running wild.
If I listen very carefully
I am sure I still can hear
The sound of infant voices
Singing, in my ear.
The sound of children's laughter,
The four o'clock escape,
The pealing of the school bell
And duffel coat, as cape.


Mitchell Street School class