Tryst with memory's crest

Perched on a high pedastal
Our lives is anything, but dull
The rains lash on the greens below
While the thunders, in approval, bellow

Sitting atop my humble mansion
I recount the days I had wanton fun
Splashing the firmament's kind blessing
On every passing, overburdened co-being

A wry smile, on my naughty lips floats
As nostalgia recreates my paper boats
Made out of what was held within a book
That was meant to teach us how to cook

We never learnt all that was taught
While in school, we played, we fought
The cruel clutches of life did not spare us
And we learnt our lessons, albeit after a fuss!