The end of PMR
The end of chaos
The end of brain-rocking sessions
The end of terrifying exams
The end of three-years-hard-work
The end of afternoon class sessions
The end of what we’d work for all these three long years
But,
Are those memorials of friendship
Those friendly eternal bonds with friends, teachers
Is going to be washed away?
Away from our maturing memories?
Those scarlet, happy days
All those laughter
All those blue calm moments
Where we all gather and learn, from each and others
Will these memories be corroded by time?
Will these things pop and vanish like a soapy bubble?
Will our unbreakable vow shatters?
Will our teacher forgot about us?
Will we, forgot this bunch of friends?
We’ll have to carry on
On and on and on and on
Time traipsed and creped without any sense of time
It’s the end of form three now
A new stage of life is going to commence
Move on, my friends
No matter what class you might be placed in
No matter which stream you’re rolling
Don’t ever, ever forget about us, friends
Keep our happy memories
As a souvenir that follows wherever you heart will go
It’ll soar with you
Whether you’re on green pasture
Or in stormy sea
Or on great, high mountains
Or even when we’re still together.
(This poem or whatever-it-is is specially dedicated to all my friends and schoolmates. I wanted to tell all of you that, even if we’re in different classes the next year, I’ll not forget you all, for you guys had led me into a more memorable stage of life)
B.J.A the stupiak poet. ~.~
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