The road, the bridge, the stream,

the school itself, all seem smaller

than they did before way back

then in nineteen seventy-four

or is it I who am diminished

by the passing of the years?

Ah, yes, crossing the bridge

to enter the school at eight

then leaving again at four

in those adolescent days

now such distant memories

though this scene recurs

to haunt me in my dreams

when past and present fuse

as I stand alone on this bridge

watching the waters below.

Generations of schoolboys

have trod this familiar path

and grown old as I have done

yet this same stream will flow

ever onwards and onwards

oblivious to all who pass

long after I am dead and gone.

                                                                ~Ian Fletcher

                                                                   Cardiff, Wales