She sat on the bench of her old high school,
Playing the memories in her mind like the needles play with wool.
The table at the front, where the teachers used to stand,
Giving boring lectures, that had no end.
The black board out there was still same black,
And still were the marks and all those cracks ... ... ...
The 1st two rows filled with the genius of the class,
As they stated to take notes and teachers remarks.
The next two were of those who would always stare,
But she rarely saw much of them to be there.
And lastly came the rows with the gang of those ten,
Seven boys and three girls, together hell and heaven ... ... ...
The life that was hers for all she knew,
The life that gave her the precious stones in dew.
The life where she wished to go back and live again,
The life with those ten she dreamt to be the same.
A lot of time passed, people left on their ways.
But no one came close enough like those shining rays ... ... ...
And now she sits on the same last bench again
Going through routes of the beautiful memory lane ... ... ...
