The Ending
No more excitement of a new section
No more thrill of new friends
No more fear of losing besties
No more drama of classmates
No more getting up early
No more doing home works
No more cracking on old jokes
No more embracing friends.
No more school….
On this last day of my schooling
I sit on my messy bed
With a paper and a pen
And no idea in my head
I use poems to release emotions
But today I couldn’t find any
Or maybe I couldn’t grasp one
For there are way too many.
There are no teardrops on my paper
Did something ruin my love
Did the past two years torture too much
Or maybe I just have had enough
But wait! I do have memories
A kid of 4 feet 5.
Heaving a blue coloured bag
Still so innocent and naïve.
As I clear up the mess a bit
I think of class six
How he failed to recognize Aria
And how a classmate put him in a fix.
The apparent heart aches and breaks
The common teenage pang
Of which he was totally unaware
Or had he been ignorant twang?
Before he learned to face iota
‘He had to confront humiliation
For mistakes that didn’t exist.
Knocking voices and vibration
Enter Asif and Divyanshu
The ones who stayed through all phase.
Through the joys and the arguments
Through the lonely maze.
Sorry the pen fell down.
Now as I pick it up
I fast forward to the point
Which sticks stale in the cup.
Has a friend named Vikram
Several lessons from whom I took
Taught me the reality of life
Was way too different from Ethics book.
The last two years are the ones
I would really never talk about
Deleting them from my memories.
Assuming their absence, no doubt.
Now he is 5 feet 8
Reminiscing his gradual growth
It is the time to say good bye
And leave foot prints on sand froth.
Shall the words remain
The aura of love I’m sending
With a sense of analogy
I give the poem the ending.
Copyright © Shivam Murari | Year Posted 2013
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