THE OLD SCHOOLBAG

I found it on the cupboard floor, The bag I carried years before. Its zip was weak, its colour gone, Yet childhood waited quietly on. Inside—a pencil, timetable, My faded name upon a label. One tiny note, one paper star, Brought back the days that travelled far. I heard the bell, the morning race, The crowded bus, each friendly face. The lunchbox smell, the playground call, The chalk that floated through the hall. Back then I wished the years would fly, To grow up fast and touch the sky. Now grown-up days move far too fast, And I look gently toward the past. The bag went back upon the shelf, But left me with my younger self. Some things grow old, yet still can bring A forgotten heart its early spring.