Of School & Feet

Mama said, ‘’Junior, fasten your laces …’’

Papa said, ‘’Buckle up, boy …’’

A warm milk-mug, two burnt potatoes,

A pair of little shorts and a shirt more,

To school I loped …

Wild-swinging rucksack across back,

Air tickles hair, birds’ chirps fill ears,

Worlds’ spirit in eyes glows,

Boyhood glee at its peak …

‘‘Larry, come over to the front of the class,

You have been late today – teacher's scolds …

Do tell – why so?’’

‘‘Would you look at your feet?! ’’

‘’Filthy things they are …’’

Squirmy hands, boyhood glee gone,

I could’ve sworn, I wished for home;

Outside she sent I,

Head stooped, hurrying away in shame,

My haste had cast me to wrong name,

Couldn’t I perhaps care to go bare-foot?

So I wouldn’t have to blame,

And be so grim …