Playing truant strolling up the hill, no more they wanted to do the drill,
to go to school and learn by rote, trifling matters that silly poets quote.
Dumping their bags and lunch packs, peeling the wear off their weary backs,
they sprinted over the lush grassy knoll, the alluring pond was their only goal.
Vaulting the rocks high they sprung, as far as their bony bodies were flung,
and into the refreshing water they dived, of which for long were so deprived.
They fancied no theorems or clueless equations, neither countries nor history of evil invasions,
wary of grammar and empty reams of essays, those awful teachers who always left them in a daze.
Splashing and bobbing in the pool of youth, who could bear to tell them the truth,
carefree and joyous frogs in the pond, they cared not what lay awaiting them beyond.
– Narendra Nayak © 2017
