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.