His first glance to a girl
when he was a naughty boy
in his village thatch school.
Her glamor dragged him to the tuck shop as glue.
But his holey pocket was empty all the time
and just see her goody face,
rush back to the class room.
Golden days were gone like a dream,
struggling in the back stage of life-school,
almost bald, the old man was seeing that
the lady at the balcony the tuck-shop girl
with her grand children
and she too wearied and old with the time.
* still I hear the bell tolls of my old school.
dedicate to my new teacher of life-school Sandra.Fowler
nimal dunuhinga
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/footpath-to-the-tuck-shop/
