Kris Atta Pappoe
Lanor - Poem by Kris Atta Pappoe
Wipe the tears out of my eyes, Labor.
Wipe these salty tears away.
The vision of it all dulls my brain
And my heart heaves with sorrow.
Once again I see those familiar, dear ones
Turned into passive teasing shadows.
As I flirt silently through these vistas.
It is morning, Lanor.
And I hear the hustle-bustle
As silently, they file into the Great Hall.
every thing comes back to me
I hear the pleasant hymns intoned solemnly
And the commanding voices.
Setting the order of day, Lanor.
I hear the laughter and challenges
As on the games field, brawn and brain contest
And the eerie silence as they settle
to imbibe the credos.
Each classroom echoing its own creed.
Those were unforgettable days.
Days of purpose and camaraderie.
I remember them all Lanor,
Even the taste of the Red Red on Saturdays
And the harsh admonishing of the Duty Prefects.
And I see those faces that apart
From your own
Were so dear to me,
I remember them all with their peculiarities.
But the day is short and sad, Lanor
I watch these dear shadows return to the dorms.
I also see the shadows of Prefects
as they creep through the night
Securing darkness and sleep for fellow students.
Faintly I hear their snores from tired bodies.
Lanor, it is late
And I must go.
Put out the light, Lanor,
Put out the lights
And bid Dzotco farewell for me. Lanor.
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