For eight long weeks he must subsist
His trunk jam-packed with nothing missed
Ticked off against the “Boarder’s List “
Arrival day was cold with rain
His mother dragged him there by train
His pleas to leave were all in vain
He and mother said their goodbyes
He turned his head to hide his eyes
Suppressing all his held- back cries
Now mother gone and left alone
He must adjust to his new home
Familiarise with things unknown
Wrenched from all he held so dear
A world unfamiliar and austere
Strict rules to which he must adhere
Then ushered to his dormitory
Bed rows in bleak uniformity
In callous cold conformity
His was the third and lower bunk
Beside his yet unopened trunk
He’d live like a Franciscan monk
Unzipping now his two small bags
Containing clothes with red name tags
And all his favourite boyhood mags
Slowly dragged the days at first
Sometimes he felt his heart would burst
Of his brief days these were the worst
He counted off each passing day
So many more compelled to stay
Until the Summer Holiday
At last the term had reached its span
And mother had achieved her plan
Her son had now become a man!