TRIBUTE TO A FRIEND
It stands there now, as it has stood, for lo, these many years.
A childhood friend, whose inner rooms have witnessed joy and tears.
Miss Kelly's room, just as it was, some fifty years ago,
The wooden floors, the large green doors, kids walking to and fro.
I close my eyes, and realize, it hasn't changed that much.
There's still the love and caring, there's still the small town touch.
And as I dream, I see a lad He looks a lot like me.
His touseled hair, and patched up pants, Were common things to see.
My dream persists, and I perceive, as I move down the hall,
The smell of Kuser hallways, new teachers in the fall.
And as I dream, they all appear, like flowers in a row.
The teachers that I had back then, who helped us learn and grow.
We came in here mere toddlers, still wet behind the ears.
But, Oh! time flies, we grow so fast, what happened to the years?
It's true, we don't know what we have, we won't until it's past.
It's sad, but true, we never see, that time moves by so fast.
To those of you now learning here, within these friendly walls,
Live every day as if the last, before adulthood calls.
And when that day in June arrives, the time to say goodbye,
Think back to all the friends you had, a tear will fill your eye.
And as for you, dear Kuser School, they've thought enough of you,
To paint, restore, and dress you up, you still have work to do!
Tom Glover Class of '47
One really has to have a great affection for his school days if it inspires him to wax poetic. I do have that affection, and I did write the poem above to remember my wonderful years as a student in Hamilton's Kuser School. With just a bit of juxtaposition, you can use this poem to wax poetic about your own grammar school. The graphic is extracted from one of my many columns under the title, "Kuser School Diary." ......bittersweet memories!
It stands there now, as it has stood, for lo, these many years.
A childhood friend, whose inner rooms have witnessed joy and tears.
Miss Kelly's room, just as it was, some fifty years ago,
The wooden floors, the large green doors, kids walking to and fro.
I close my eyes, and realize, it hasn't changed that much.
There's still the love and caring, there's still the small town touch.
And as I dream, I see a lad He looks a lot like me.
His touseled hair, and patched up pants, Were common things to see.
My dream persists, and I perceive, as I move down the hall,
The smell of Kuser hallways, new teachers in the fall.
And as I dream, they all appear, like flowers in a row.
The teachers that I had back then, who helped us learn and grow.
We came in here mere toddlers, still wet behind the ears.
But, Oh! time flies, we grow so fast, what happened to the years?
It's true, we don't know what we have, we won't until it's past.
It's sad, but true, we never see, that time moves by so fast.
To those of you now learning here, within these friendly walls,
Live every day as if the last, before adulthood calls.
And when that day in June arrives, the time to say goodbye,
Think back to all the friends you had, a tear will fill your eye.
And as for you, dear Kuser School, they've thought enough of you,
To paint, restore, and dress you up, you still have work to do!
Tom Glover Class of '47
One really has to have a great affection for his school days if it inspires him to wax poetic. I do have that affection, and I did write the poem above to remember my wonderful years as a student in Hamilton's Kuser School. With just a bit of juxtaposition, you can use this poem to wax poetic about your own grammar school. The graphic is extracted from one of my many columns under the title, "Kuser School Diary." ......bittersweet memories!
No comments:
Post a Comment