Like one’s bountiful mother
There was an altruistic place,
Where my fancy adolescence,
Was carved into sophistication
There I was taught who GOD was,
It instilled in me my values.
It taught me what my parents meant,
And the need to be generous
It held my finger when I was naïve,
And showed me how to grow,
Through all tough teenage years,
It assisted my wisdom to grow.
My parents gave me roots,
But, the soil, heat and water it fed.
And for all fruitful days in life,
I owe it to my alma-mater.
The strength with which I carry on,
The confidence in my speech,
Is all because I sat in a world,
That taught me honesty, sincerity and peace.
Its memories are immortal.
And the images linger in my heart…
And though in life I will move on,
My school will always remain my sweetheart.
ritika vineeta
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/alma-mater-4/
