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A young girl stood at the school hall wall,
Some paper in her hand,
She shuffled her shoes while eyeing the views,
And the news on a notice board.
This space looks so impersonal, the wall so pale and long,
While shoe heels clicked (click-clack, clickety-click), 
“Oh! No” was her thought,
So she turned to walk to the class she had just come from,
She bumped a teacher passing by, 
Forms and rulers to the floor did fly!
She knelt to help retrieve the mess
Showing stick-thin legs under her worn check dress,
The lady teacher had a smile “and this one’s yours
You’re new of course!”
She nodded once or twice,
“It’s really good, I think you (should) post
This on the spot at the side”
And so they did, the teacher and kid
That rumpled poem post.
“My name is Miss Jane, I hope we meet again
You’re Ruth or so I am told”.

Now years have rolled on  from that school they have gone.
No longer there to meet.Ruth did make a housewife proud and love she gave and took
(still) in her mind the prose she’d find, and times awhile to write.
Throughout the years – cares – smiles and fears,
She saved them in a sheaf, past daisy wheel
And golf ball type and word processor advent!
Until a day in December her Christmas gift was sent,
The slim flat box was waiting in season’s wrapping bright
She saw it as she opened the door
And on came the side wall light.
She opened it with nervousness bordering on fright
And held the  new computer, she thought
‘I’ll never get it right!’
She put it by, a week went past
And then a friend called in,
She showed it her, “Oh! Don’t despair”
Alice said and grinned.
“Sit down here, you’ll see my dear” the hour flew right by.
Twice more in a week, her Alice did teach
Then said “it’s time for you on your own to try
Come on now, get a grip!”
Ruth took the computer and opened her paper sheaf
“Oh dear”, said Ruth as she bumped the desk
Sending some to the floor in a mess
As she bent to pick them up, a yellowed one caught her eye,
It was rumpled at the edges and poor Ruth just started to cry
Oh dear, oh dear said Alice should we put it away?
No said Ruth in a trembling, I know what Miss Jane would say
I think that I will post it..! on this telekinetic screen
And yet I still do miss, that old notice board it seems,
It only feels like a morning ago 
Instead of those many long years
And so with  thin worn fingers,
yet Moving still quick for her age
She posted that poem forever,
Oh! Let’s hope she has passed that awkward stage!

© Joe Maverick 11-10-2010
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