Reflect & Bloom
October -2024
Middle Wing
Design and Layout : Ms. Uswah Shafi
Editorial Incharge : Ms. Bisma Manzoor
Patron: Ms. Monisa Khursheed
Felicitation for musical and sports Performance
“Story writing”
Mock UN
“Different types of angles using toothpicks”
“Linear equations in one variable”
“Exterior angle property”
“Algebraic identity”
“Image formation by convex and concave lens”
“Refraction through glass slab”
“
Types of joints”
“Making of different joints by students”
“Science without props”
“Osmosis using potato”
“
Skit on Andher Nagri”
“puppet show on Hamara vidyala”
“Creative activity to illustrate the theme “Hamara Vidyalay”
“Role play of chapter Kashir Talmeeh”
“Traditional games of kashmir”
“letter writing to favourite teachers”
“Wild animals food chain”
th B
Maahir
The Last Train Home
At the stroke of midnight, a whistle calls, A spectral train through the silence sprawls. Smoke curls like whispers, the night aglow, An invitation to places I longed to know.
I step aboard; the doors creak, sigh, In the dim-lit cabin, shadows drift by. Each seat is a memory, a face from the past,
Echoes of laughter where shadows are cast.
There sits a girl with ribbons in her hair, A snapshot of innocence, dreams laid bare. She smiles, though her eyes hold a tale of regret,
A moment I lost, a promise unmet.
The train jolts forward, through time, through space,
Each stop a doorway, each face a trace.
I see an old man with stories untold, His eyes flicker bright with courage bold.
“Remember,” he whispers, “the roads you let go, The dreams you buried, the seeds you won’t sow.”
The world shifts around me, a kaleidoscope’s spin,
A journey through choices, where loss can begin.
Reeva Saud 7h
Through windows, I glimpse the paths I could tread, The laughter of loved ones, the words left unsaid.
A mother’s embrace, a friend’s parting cheer, Their ghosts entwined, their lessons clear.
We thunder through valleys of what might have been, In silence, their voices a soft, haunting din. “Forgive and remember,” they whisper in flight, “Life is a canvas; paint boldly, ignite.”
As dawn breaks softly, the shadows recede, The train slows to stillness, a gift to my need. I rise from my seat as the ghosts start to fade,
Yet their lessons linger; I’m no longer afraid.
With morning’s first light, I step into day, Carrying echoes that won’t drift away. The Last Train Home, a passage so rare, A reminder of journeys of love in the air.
Here in my heart, I hold tight to their words, In the dance of the fleeting, the music of birds. For every train taken, each station I roam, I’ll cherish the past and make it my home.