under the old schoolhouse tree

under the old schoolhouse tree poem by steven james humphreys

I sit reminiscing

under the old schoolhouse tree

it’s just me and that oak tree over there

filled with chirping birds

laughing at me.

and, the summer breeze

cools me from the hot sun.

a bird looked down

and asked,

‘what are you doing here you crazy old man’?

I looked up and answered,

‘I have nothing left of me but acting like an old fool’

Then, he dropped a poop bomb on top my head as he flew off…

then, I woke up from briefly dozing off thinking

most of the old kids

grew old and gray and by now

they must be dead and gone.

this I will never know for sure

who is here and who is long gone,

for there are no more class reunions

for that graduation year…

I keep wondering why I’m drawn

back to this place?

I hated school and

wasn’t here when I was there.

I didn’t want to be here way back in the day…

I wasn’t your traditional popular guy,

I was more your untraditional

unpopular guy

who somehow

was more popular

than he thought he was.

but, I am still

alive and kicking

and many of my fellow classmates are

likely not.

but, I have come back

to reminisce about the good old

bad times…

I wonder if someone

in my old class

ever thought about what

happened to me?

I guess I’ll never know.

I hear the old

songs of the time

playing wild in my mind.

they don’t play them

much on the radio

these days…

here I sit

under the old schoolhouse tree

reminiscing and listening to

those old songs repeating in my head.

I think what I’d rather have

is another chance at it

to be made young again

so that I could do all those

things I should’ve done,


instead, I sit here

having lost

the only chance

I will ever get

and feel the

loss of it all

wasted long

long ago

the days of

my youth.


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