Head, Heart, and Soul

no point

There is simply no point to this poem, that is barely a poem, but instead a story
I am here simply, to share a tale
This tale has no greater meaning
It is not something to dig deep into
I am Storyteller, and I myself, have no point

See, when I was in the First grade, I was reading a book
A simple book
The Magic Treehouse: Pompeii
Of course, I've forgotten the actual name by now
Kids around me were rambling on about the childish things they found interesting
It was recess, so there were the soft rumble of feet as partially unrestricted kids roamed free
I had chosen to forsake the company of my peers, settling against the brick wall generally associated with doing something wrong
I had done nothing wrong, but it was strictly forbidden to speak to kids who had done wrong in the eyes of the worn out teachers

A teacher, who shared a last name with the title of a bank, came to associate with me
She greets me, and I spare her a glance before falling back into the world where volcanoes were erupting and innocents were dying
She seems disappointed I had no interest in her, so she taps my arm to make me acknowledge her presence
I look at her, still silent as I was wasting perfectly good reading time associating with this woman
She was checking to ensure I was ok
Which, really, made no sense, as I was perfectly content reading my book until she arrived to interrupt my focus
I said I was, and my book was just getting good, and I would be returning to reading whether or not she was leaving, because I had a perfect system for keeping time without a watch or phone, and the signal of the 3rd graders streaming out signaled I had 10 minutes
She stared at me for a moment before walking back to her peers, presumably to talk about me, because they were glancing and pointing in my direction
Those women really didn't know what subtle meant did they?
Ten minutes of me reading passes quickly, and I stand to go inside, wiping the pebbles off my legs and filing into line
I return to the rush of the cool air corresponding to the school, to continue reading or daydreaming while the teacher drones on about something useless like learning the alphabet

That's all folks, who knows if you read my pointless story. Did you think I lied to you? You think there's a meaning, something greater for you to be searching for in this short text?
There's not, and if you find anything at all of relevance, I can personally assure you, it's quite useless by now. Farewell for now.