We're part of the regime now,
We've joined the ranks
Of anoraks,
Rucksacks,
And stiff, new shoes.
We've slipped into the morning stream of cars,
Queuing either side of the day,
To kiss our goodbyes
And hug our hellos.
Called by the scholastic bell,
We gather like drones to the hive,
Drawn from our homes,
Whatever the climate,
To part with our innocents,
Learning only loneliness without them,
Regardless of the freedom it brings.
Watching you run through the gates
In woolly hat
And uniform,
Eager to be educated,
Blue lunch box in your still small hand,
My pride in you smiles openly.
Yet I am torn between that
And the time ticking,
Taking your term away from me
Now that you have started school.

Little boy
With a mind of ideas
Head full-stuffed with plans and scientific schemes,
Like pockets
Overspilling
With Star Wars figures,
Pencils,
Toy cars,
And occasional Pokemon cards.
Snippets of security
Smuggled into school
To share with others.
Ideas knocked about
Like a ball in the yard,
He questions all,
But has an answer for everything,
His mind sponge absorbing information,
Which will not be squeezed out.
Though a few holes ensure cleaning teeth
And tidying up get forgotten.
As daily tasks get misplaced behind the book mountain,
Where his nose is always hidden
And his mind is lost,
But where dreams and intelligence grow,
And brightness shines
Between the pages.
And, anyway,
What are a few dirty socks compared to genius?