Everything New Must Be Old

Reads: 25  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


How many things I remember, and how many things get lost in the stream of time.

Submitted: August 10, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 10, 2018

A A A

A A A


Memories.

They are here,

All of them.

This old compound, this ancient school.

Where so many times were spent.

So many years ago.

 

I enter the halls,

My skin tingling as I sense I’ve been here before.

Once before, in younger skin.

I stand here now,

Once as a person awaiting age,

But now as a person that has come of age.

 

The classroom, where we all sat.

Once we sat excitedly in these chairs.

Once we settled our backpacks on the ground.

Once we scribbled on papers.

Once we nervously discussed the exam.

Once the professor was at the front, eyes gleaming and concrete.

Now those desks are covered with roots.

Now those backpacks are absent, and gravel in its place.

Now the worksheets are scattered across the room,

Old equations, notes, and drawings faded among them.

Now the Teacher’s board is cracked and mossy, the pedestal turned over and stained.

 

The cafeteria, where we all ate.

Once the long, rectangular tables were surrounded by laughing kids and trays of food.

Once there were chefs producing dozens of plates of meals by the minute.

Once the trash cans were filled to the brim.

Now the tables are stained with leftovers.

Now the ovens, and stands are left to rot, the cuisines now stuck inside forever.

Now the trash cans lie on the floor, empty of all matter.

 

The dormitories, where we all lived.

Once the beds were fluffy and dirty.

Once the desks were clean and dominated by notebooks and soda cans.

Once the windows were open and breezy.

Once the floor was neat and colorful.

Now the beds lack their sheets, and their character.

Now the desks are scratched, cracked and filled with vines.

Now the windows are shattered, stained glass, barely visible.

Now the floors are littered with dust and bugs.

All these rooms, all these moments.

Lost in time.

But still kept in my mind.

Memories I would’ve once forgotten,

But now hold onto dearly.

Moments I’d give anything to go back to.

What I once despised,

I’d give anything to go back to now.

However,

Everything new,

Must be old.

 


© Copyright 2018 Conann. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments: