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,
fleeting 
playground romances.

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
and 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. 
Home time.
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.