The h2g2 Poem
Created | Updated Jul 24, 2003
Specs
It was always very foggy in the classroom
And, when you realize we were all six,
You couldn't blame it on the fag smoke
The nine year olds used to
Surreptitiously puff behind
Teachers back.
Mine was a world of rainbow hues,
Of jumpers, muffled giggles,
Sniggering whispers
And laboriously drawn shapes,
The crayons screeking their way
Across the pages, and smeared
Outlines of white and sickly maroon
On the vaguely oblong blackboard.
The teachers voice asking me
Again and again and again
Hadn't I finished copying yet?
Later on, when I began to wear
Bottle bottoms in frames, and
Caught up with my letters,
I realised they were the only compensation
I had for the loss of rainbow hues,
Of blissful ignorance.
