Country School

The little brick school house where Mama used to go, sets quietly atop the hill thru' summer heat and snow. The bell on top is silent now, the window shutters tight, the door is weather-beaten, and floors an awful sight. The old stove is still standing in the center of the room, Lilac bushes, long forgot, beside brick walls still bloom. Blackboards stretch across one end stained with dust and chalk, memories those walls would tell if only they could talk. Honored places are now faded where president pictures hung, Pledge of Allegiance always said when morning bell was rung. There's a hitchin' post for horses the children rode to school, no bus for transportation then to learn the Golden Rule. Discipline was taught there, honor and respect, to take responsibility, not leave one's youth unchecked. The old place holds the secrets of bygone days that passed, of children growing tall and straight with rules of life to last . That dear old country school where younsters sought their goal within those walls of mortared brick now stands empty of its soul.