[Again, I prepared some music to go with this: Click]
Once hallowed halls now dark and broken,
faint windows are the only light.
The rooms in which kids minds were woken,
now lie barren with natures blight.
There are no singing choir boys,
nor steaming heads from questions asked.
The books, then cherished, now are moist,
remnants of a brighter past.
In memories and heads held high,
this institution carries on.
For no idea can ever die,
until the heads it’s filled are gone.
[This is for the picture writing challenge #12]
thanks for joining in, I dont normally like poetry, but if i do it has to rhyme
…heard this somewhere before… well, thanks anyway 🙂
I just re-read my comment which may have come out wrong… what I was saying was I liked your entry, because the only poetry I like rhymes.
You misread mine as well, I just thought it sounded similar to what you said to „Old pages“, one of my earlier entries 🙂
lol, ok, I cannot even use the line „it’s Monday“ as an excuse.