Dedicated To: those who are now in High School and to those who have been.
by tkbrown
Tis the month when school bells begin to ring even though the virus is surging again. Teachers, students, classrooms, binders--three ring, notetaking, not writing, something akin to mega seminars--and yet it's more-- with old friends, new friends, and many new plans, not enough time, no energy left at end of day. Crawling into bed-- out like a light-- the backs of my eyelids such a beautiful sight. All too soon morning light peeks in reminding of needs to be met. A brand-new day, an old routine with advanced equations, how to calculate sine. What happens later midst well-laid plans was not intended-- it was not planned-- protect my heart from this 'start.' I do not understand how it managed to rend the innermost core and alter who I am. New emotions running deep, welling up, unable to keep them in. Sensations flowing new and free at the chance, passing sight of thee-- concentration and focus have all but flown out the open window where seeds have been sown. The future is out there, unsure as to where this path of emotions is leading-- the person I was taking steps toward the one I will become. That first High School band marching on the field to enrich experience at halftime for those watching, marching, and me. Do others feel the same? Is the aura surreal? Does it show on my face-- this awesome new feel? One day at a time-- sometimes just an hour-- seems such a waste of rhythm when my mind is speeding ahead toward the end of these four." Can I wish my life away and be sure I will remain the person I was when I stepped onto this train? Maybe I should step back for a bit to catch my breath before I take . . . a run for it. High School.
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Photo Above: Gundula Vogel @pixabay.com.
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by tkbrown 
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