The first day of school comes fast but goes slow.

I’m thrown into a routine of early rises and long lectures.

Teachers dealing out forms to sign and syllabuses to read,

doing this was second nature to them, but to us, well, we just got here.

I stumble through every period, each one a hard-fought battle,

though the first day of school finally comes to a close, sending each student back to their home.

Soon I begin to buckle down,

the days become shorter and the nights become longer.

Trapped in a world of essays to write and homework to finish,

stress becomes as persistent as snowfall throughout a blizzard.

All I can do is tell myself to think positive, 

and I am positive, positive that these days are never ending.

The years seemed to stretch on forever, 

but I’m here writing a poem about life being rushed

because while we spent so much wasted time,

focusing not on what was right, but what wasn’t wrong, one thing is for sure.

We will all grow old and wish to go back to that first day of school… 

the day that came fast and went slow.