My School

By Safwana Rahman

It’s always a struggle to get out of bed

As I cry out, “Mum!”

“Please let me rest my head”

As she yells back,” what a sloth you have become!”

Pencils, glue, paper and books

My bag is filled to the top;

I grab my lunch and my shoes

And head to the bus-stop.

I zeal to do my best

Not any less,

I’ve got a math’s’ test

And I know I won’t make a mess.

My school is an educational swimming pool,

From where my teachers gather each bucket of love;

With which they alter every fool

As we return home, with studies our minds evolve.

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