This present world they have left far behind;
Handed Henry Fraser their building code;
Engineered, with cognitive sparks entwined;
Behind the brick walls of a prison hole;
At St Ann’s, they see works of art displayed
Rose, as the Museum Age took control;
Brightening, their path down memory lane;
And, for this reason old things are treasured;
Digging at square roots enlightens their brain;
Oldie goldies warm still with heritage;
Stand, so silently communicating.
Musingly, they learn from their by-gone age;
Underneath their plateau, they trace their place;
Sum eighty-three years, St. Ann Bajan' sage,
Every time, artefacts surge from deep grave;
Unearth the cords that bind, the human race...
Museology broadens their knowledge crave.
© Paterika Hengreaves
December 12, 2016