The daily landscape changes

With scholastic intent,

As myriad masses make their way

Through streets aroused from summers break.

Now wide awake, and drenched in dew,

Autumn term begins.

 

Mornings populated by procession

Of those now proudly in possession

Of shiny new uniforms.

Worn by children, some of whom,

Summer somehow forgot to nurture,

Seeming too small for such adventure

As those enjoyed by their peers;

Who look much older than their years.

 

The rebel yell of those who dare

To keep peroxide yellow hair. The

Summer romance still concealed,

The tattoo yet to be revealed; while

Teachers raise their eyes at hems,

[Tomorrow, skirts will be lowered again].

As girls, once subject of schoolboys’ ire,

Fuel feelings of desire.

 

The open expanse of cricket pitch

Bares no trace of crease, as                                     

Goalposts now stand upright

On faded markings of athletics track,

To welcome unknown sporting heroes;

In place of those who won’t come back.

 

Then the straggler, last to follow,

Like a prisoner to the gallows,

Slowly plodding to their fate;

Always last to reach the gate.

 

As nights grow longer, time tick-tocks,

Toward the autumn equinox.