Fateful Day Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Feeling the beauty of innocence and purity of children here
at my Granddaughter's grade school, waiting here in the
office for her.

Same exact school that I attended so many years ago, still
having memories of that fateful day, gathering all our books,
getting on the bus, being brought to a brand new school.

On arriving, seeing a building that looked just like a jail,
depressed at seeing it, hating to get off the bus, not wanting
to step one step into this bizarre building.

Small windows way up high, nothing like the old school where
windows were large and expansive, what a disappointment we all
felt as we got off the bus, books in hand.

Still remembering the dread we all felt on attending this hor-
endous school, now my poor Granddaughter is going here too.