Forward From School

Three words,
Three little words,
Is all it takes
To end the summer.

'Back to school'.

I stand at the window,
Watch the children pass.
Some skip happily,
While others drag their feet forlornly along the pavement.
A few run by, red in the face
And late for class.

Shiny shoes.
Ironed trousers and skirts.
Unblemished school bags
Filled with sharp pencils,
Their lead carved to a fine point,
Ready to decorate the blank notebooks,
And undersides of tables.

I remember the smell of the classroom,
A hint of fresh paint in the air.
I remember the look of a new timetable,
Free of creases, and corrections in pen.
I remember the faces of my friends,
Happily reunited after what seemed like forever.

Three words,
Three little words,
Is all it takes
To end the summer.

But not for me.

The classroom has become the lecture hall,
The homework has become coursework.
The morning walk now starts not at home,
But at my flat.
The gold stars have become crucial grades,
The stickers have become vital credits.

With the freedom of university comes complexity,
And the simple days of school are but a rosy memory.

When the sale signs appear,
And the television adverts increase,
I think of not back,
But forward from school.
Forward into uncertainty,
Forward into the future.

My future.

There is no set timetable for my future,
No bell ringing out the hours.
Life is graded on pass or fail,
And a silver platter is rare.

All I can do is be positive,
Take life as it comes.
Be thankful for love, both given and received,
And accept that mistakes happen.

I am moving forward from school,
Forward with my life.