My Alma-Mater
My Alma-Mater
The old building has lost its luster
The tall, shade assuring trees too have withered
Mangled remains of the gate
Makes a creaking sound when pushed
Perhaps, they all are filled with wails and sobs
Wires from the poles outside
Dangle precariously like a hung verdict
Hope is whisked away by whispers of oddities
Solace of promises are worn out since long
Recount... Mournful existence of my alma-mater
My bubbly bouncy days of yore
I owe entirely to her
From hastening my quest to sculpting perception
Her role-play is immense in my life's excursion
Wish only soon, she is back with a bang
Shapes and chisels many lives
Redeems her stand.