A poem I wrote during my Senior year of college.
I am going home.
I am leaving, but I hate saying good-bye.
Good-byes are hard, and they aren’t honest. You can’t look someone in the eye and tell them it’s good that you’re leaving–
So here I am
Standing–
Looking around at empty spaces,
Thinking about the students melting away in plastic chairs,
Waiting for their day to start.
Why am I here?
Give me back my sophomore year–
When my friends sat on the quad and played guitar music,
And started paint wars, flour wars, and water balloon fights.
When my first impression consisted of the random girl sitting in a tree reading
And people called me a hippie, because I ran in my bare feet.
Give me back the late nights at Omlette Spot, and the basic days at Starbucks,
When we used to think the “Why?” questions, and found ourselves in the stars–
When we sat with our legs crossed, shuffling through a deck of cards–
Give me back my friends,
The people I shared my life with,
And the people who loved with their whole selves–
Not just with their words.
Give me back the girl I was sophomore year.
I want to feel light again, like I can fly,
And find off the wall dreams.
Give me back my piece of something…
But I am leaving.
And this short span in my existence is coming to its end–
So the bell rings.
My mind rushes forward as I see students pour out from their classes,
And relief leaves me.
I bow my head, smile at my bare feet, and close my eyes.
I guess this is good-bye.
A Poet's Pen 