Ballpoint scrawled desks
etched with idealistic youthful wisdoms
and hallowed bikeshed conversations
carried on the wind like fallen leaves;
drowned out only by the dull thud
of footballs on old, red brick.
KM heart SB IDST
and similar promises of love everlasting
Tip-Exxed on lockers
and secured in place by numbered keys;
that imprison so many secret,
And yet I never told her how I felt.
I never asked “Will you go out with me?”
My heart was my locker.
And I allowed the years to slip by
like the small, grubby bits
that come off an eraser.
Maybe a ruler could have helped me to see straight?
And stopped me running around
Like a compass
In protracted circles in my head.
That Bunsen burning in my soul was all for you
and, had I the power of English to express myself.
Were I able to do the mathematics
and put 2 and 2 together.
Had I known for sure the Chemistry between you and I.
Maybe my History books would have read different.
But; I am glad.
Because when the bell sounds for me
and my day comes to an end.
I can lay in dreams and see your visage.
My secret school crush; an unblemished ideal.
Wandering through the hazy snow
of halcyon chalk dust memories.