Old School

I sat where the old school used to be,
Numberless voices coming to and fro,
Ancient halls of forgotten wisdom,
Long had pass which now steals my memory.

Nearby there was a brown garden,
Remembrance of a nostalgic lark,
And I recall my mother used to tell me:
"Where art thou my young" like a bark.

Desolate prairie, where are you going,
Are you leaving for the Red Brick to come?
Are you truly not coming,
Or is my dreadful thought of boredom.

I sat nearby the ancient tree,
Where my school has long been forgotten
But now there's the Big Red Brick;
Great, imposing standing from aloft.