Four years ago on a Monday in June,
Four years which seemed to have passed way too soon,
It seems only yesterday when we were first here,
And though yesterday's gone still everything's clear.
And I watched everything slowly fade to that scene,
To the time when we were all just barely sixteen,
Young Florence Nightingales in flowers of white,
Petals fast blooming with the blossom of life.
How we tried to remember yet forgot what they said,
About "-isms" and "-ologies" they drilled in our heads,
And hid exam papers coz we failed all our tests,
As we lifted our spirits with beers and with jest,
And we skipped our dinners and stayed up all night,
Coz our project's not done and it's deadline's tonight.
So we begged our prof to extend one more day,
And though it's not right, she just said it's okay.
And the boys tried to woo that girl who's too pretty,
But her head's in the air and she was too "busy",
And we dolled ourselves silly for that boy we can't have,
Oh how we broke our hearts as we all fell in love!
White flowers we were too young and too free,
Too carefree to see what our lives would soon be,
And we wait for that day we thought wouldn't come,
But before we could blink those four years were gone.
Now here we are all gathered at present,
Celebrating our glory and our achievement.
In black gowns we marched with the caps on our hair,
Amidst laughter and cheer and the shouts in the air.
Four years ago on a Monday in June,
Four years which seemed to have passed way too soon,
Young Florence Nightingales now reaching their prime,
Now taking flight to face life's grand design.
YOU ARE READING
The Story We Wrote
PoetryCollege was the time when she fell in love, with someone she thought could never love her back. Little did she know... Act I: Just Like That, Everything Begins Scene 1: Last Night's Dream Scene 2: Amorte Scene 3: Unrea...
