The Echoes of Time, by Dr Simon Uttley

The Echoes of Time.

In hallowed halls where whispers weave their lore,

Beneath the weight of ages, scholars tread,

With chalk and verse, they paint what lies before,

Each lesson learned is life anew, well spread.

A teacher’s heart, like parchment worn and creased,

Yet pulsing still with flames of youth’s bright spark;

In every room, a story finds release-

As minds awaken in the quiet dark.

Through trenches deep where shadows danced in fright,

The echoes of the war-scarred past remain;

In battles fought from dusk to fleeting light,

Each soldier’s journey ends in joy or pain.

Their voices blend with students laughter bright-

For learning blooms where souls have dared the night.

With wisdom forged like steel in fires long cold,

The bonds of ages intertwine and flow,

For through the lessons carved in softest gold,

A brighter world emerges from the woe.

The past extends a hand to guide the now:

In learning lies the hope – the ink upon our hands-

Across generations, wisdom we shall glean;

Each joyful moment slips like grains of sand-

Yet planted seeds grow strong in rich terrain.

Though time may bend our forms to dust and grey,

In heart’s embrace, we craft a lasting way

Thus, teachers stand as guardians of time-

To nurture minds as blossoms bloom anew;

Their legacy transcends each silent rhyme-

In every child’s bright smile shines hope so true.

As history unfolds in stories told,

A tapestry grows rich with threads of gold.