Mrs Keepa’s class
The color of crayons and fragrant china pencils,
the murmur of school time sounds
The kind teacher I liked so much,
‘Misha magazine’ with an apple hedgehog recipe.
Fables and snow from far off lands,
‘Matryoshka’ dolls and Russian red cheeks.
Library time was a dreamers’ place,
silver fish and moth eaten
Open blue skies
like springtime cornflowers,
freshness in the air that was life.
Pigtails and friendships and best friends forever,
young, untouched, innocently unwise.
Grey school stones warmed up by the sun,
Crunchy fresh mountains and trees,
a sweet lisping classmate, sharing her crayons,
giving to the world so generously.
Through open windows the sunlight gently falling,
warming little hands at work.
On pencils they nibbled,
on notebooks busy scribbled,
a drawing, a lesson,
a sweet memory.
My best grade three memories at Loreto Convent Darjeeling.