Graduation Story as Old as Time

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sitting by the wayside of Academia;
(as every graduating class has)
we talk. we laugh. we throw shiny red apples.
we complain,
(groaning under textbooks)
of heads filled to bursting of
Fact.

we can count our time left
before the long, lusty days of freedom
on two hands and a foot.
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
exams toy with us, sending us nightmares
and hand cramps in turn
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
our aforementioned heads overflow
staining our test papers black with ink
and neatly constrained handwriting.
11.
12.
13.
14.
we memorize the clock, counting as one till
that fateful last day
frees us from the monotony
(that is the 8th grade)
15.
we laugh, we cry, we make fools of ourselves
we reminisce
the taste of nostalgia like honey on our collective tongues
then, we say our goodbyes
and head off into the world
to new beginnings, desperately awaited
and clandestinely feared.





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This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

rushimpersonated(hx) said...
Nov. 25, 2009 at 8:31 am
Hey, Ells, its me! This is so cute! I love it, though it may not be a masterpiece it sums up thoughts before the end of eight grade in a pleasant, expressive poem.
 
brina said...
May 30, 2009 at 12:51 am
This is a very interesting peom.
 
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