Old School
I can turn up that street any time I wish;
I pass that post box frequently enough,
But there is no returning, that’s the twist,
Time’s poker faced, you cannot call his bluff.
The deepest yearning only meets rebuff,
These houses do not greet me, I’m not missed
And the old school where I seldom did enough
To satisfy my teachers has forgot
The bully and the joker and the swot
The cigarettes, the Three Card Brag, the fights,
The wondering how to talk to girls, and what
Might be waiting round the corner out of sight.
To come so far and barely move at all;
To not escape the gravity of things beyond recall.
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