The smell of freshly dried paint, 
New plastic, new rubber, and new stuff 
Fills the air. In the distance, faint
A familiar silhouette, a little less scruff
Waves a smile in my direction. 

That direction has changed, it was 
A different door and teacher 
Last year. My pulse sings a chorus
I don't comprehend, metered
In fear and joy mixed together. 

Together with teachers, parents console tears
From older versions of me
But younger, and scared of new peers
Unaware this we've lived, but glee
Now fills us to be here with them again. 

(c) nyonglema