Principal - The Commander Of The Fleet

Commander of the Fleet

Down at the Battery something stirs.

Training no longer rings to the crack of a bullet,

Bowerham's hallowed training ground

Now echoes with a different sound.

Another batch of rookies assault the pedagogical course.

Fresh with hope they scale education's vertical face.

Their leader watches with a mixture of feelings.

Quietly he watches as some reach the top,

Knowing he has been commanded to add another brick.

He waves farewell to those who fall

And shakes his head when others turn and leave it all.

Commanded by an even higher call,

He is left alone when angry voices cry 'unfair'

As the goalposts move once more.

No one understands how much he cares;

They only see the changing sands

Around which he tries to plot a course.

The lonely command must surely take its toll,

But no one really knows the feel of the burden on his back.

Nor how much he shields them from Westminster's arrows.

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