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First Day at School
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By Rich Tassinari
Other Poems by Rich Tassinari


    First Day at School

As out the nest we flew,
My mother seemed to know
That neither of us knew
And so, she called, “Go slow.
Remember, now you stay
At school this year all day.”

I waited for my sis,
Who was a few feet back,
We walked, but feared we’d miss
The bus if we were slack
And so, with quickened pace,
When out of sight, we raced.

The morning air was fine
And colors were so bright,
Such happiness was mine
That all the world was right,
And we who gathered here,
Lived gaily without fear.

We laughed and joked and teased,
The bus rolled up and stopped,
We boarded it with ease,
And down the aisle we hopped,
To school, to school we go
Was all we had to know.

When we arrived at school,
There were more kids like us,
It must have been a rule
To all run off the bus
And to the play yard race
To catch the fun we chased.

A bell then called us all
To stop and stand in line,
I also heard a call,
A nun who held a sign,
Said, “Kindergarten here,”
I fell in to the rear.

My teacher was just swell,
We learned some phonic sounds,
Did math until the bell,
She then said we were bound
For home, our day was done,
It seemed it’d just begun.

I said, “I stay all day,
My mother told me so,
And her I should obey.”
And so, I wouldn’t go,
My teacher seemed perplexed,
And even somewhat vexed.

“It really is OK,
My sister is still here,
I’m sure if I just stay,
It all will be quite clear,
That later when she goes,
I’ll leave too, heaven knows.”

I went back to my seat,
They gave me milk to drink,
I had a bite to eat,
Some time to sit and think,
And wondered what I’d do
Until my day was through.

A Sister Sue P. Roar,
The nun who was the boss,
Then took me through a door,
Above it hung a cross,
She sat me down and said
Mom wants me home instead.

When I arrived at home,
She opened up the door,
She had been crying some,
I’d seen those eyes before,
I asked her earnestly,
“Your tears, are they for me?”

She said, “Both you and me.
Then held me in her arms,
And kissed me tenderly,
I knew I’d caused some harm
And asked her, “Mom, are you OK?”
She smiled, “Ah yes, how was your day?”

Rich Tassinari 5/18/14

My granddaughter loves to hear my stories about my childhood. This is one.

 

 

 

 


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Submitted: Sunday, May 18, 2014

Last Updated: Monday, May 19, 2014

About the Poet
Husband, father, grandfather, and each title is my joy. As a youth, poetry was a means to express the inexpressable. I was attracted to (and still am) the beauty and brevity of verse. All flows out from God, and like a proper prayer, can flow back.


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