Tag Archives: graduation

Library, Floor 2

Standard

Once more for the last time

In my regular, lake-facing desk.

The music of keyboards and rustling pages,

The quiet that speaks louder than words,

They all surround me in a comfortable haze.

Some are reviewing, some talking to friends,

Or racing perhaps to make a deadline.

Papers printed or uploaded,

One last check on the details

And a barely-there sigh of relief.

 

Sitting here for the last time;

For the last essay of my degree.

I will miss this loud quiet,

The mesmerising view,

The claustrophobic corridors of books

PA, PL to PQ and even the rolling stacks!

I know these selves so well,

I close my eyes and count down codes.

Malory here, Chaucer is opposite,

Go to the left and three cases down for the Grail.

Classics in a corner, mythology one floor up,

PQ was moved to 02 –Joy!

 

Yes, I will miss this block of concrete

That I called home away from home,

But I must move on. Write those last

Three-and-a-half thousand words,

Convert, submit.

One last assignment, one last day,

At Library, Floor 2, with my back

On N 6851 to N7292.

That time again

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It’s the end of an era, they tell us,

The start of an age. Again.

End, end, end; start, start, start.

Nobody thinks of the middles.

Time cannot be divided

To symmetrical shapes

Cut off the fabric of Life.

Eras do not sleep quietly,

They follow you through,

They are called…memories.

And change is no paper clip,

Hastily keeping two pieces together.

It is part of a continuum, part of a whole.

Great thoughts these, comforting even!

Then why does graduation

Still sound scary?

Boxes

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Square and rectangular, cardboard and plastic,

Labelled or clean – Does it truly matter?

Another year’s end; for me that’s July.

Another round of packing,

Another new room to make my own.

 

People keep asking me to set down roots,

To make long term commitments,

Register for this, sign up for that,

Find a relationship (now that would be something!).

But how can I do anything, commit to anyone

When next year, for all I know, I won’t be in the country?

 

I do love travelling, I wouldn’t mind living off a suitcase.

There is always the excitement (why can’t I EVER spell that word?)

Of making a house your new home. And yet,

Even as I tie loose ends and shift

Three years’ worth of memories, I wonder.

When will the last box be finally be unpacked?