The Good Times...

Those little hands that held on

To each other; so small around a crayon.

Those little pushes and pokes

When asked about turned into jokes.

Playing "House" with friends

With precision, we used to pretend.

Rock, Paper, Scissors

Or teachers' caricatures

Bringing tasty food for all

But hiding and saving it was the protocol.

Erasing the answer with spit

When the eraser was not available to delete.

Pointing at friends upon seeing

Funny pictures in textbooks

Tic tac toe and monkeying

The back of notebooks

Standing outside the classroom

As punishment and chatting at high volume

Refusing to submit copies

Bored and uninterested, handwriting sloppy.

Distributing toffees to everyone

Receiving birthday song as a celebration.

Fists adorned with smileys and stars

Knees and arms full of scratches and scars.

All this appears like a dream

Reminiscing which, I beam.

It seems like another era

Or possibly another dimension;

Because it is nowhere near the present

I can only recall it with retention