They say everything
has an end
So other
things may begin
They say the
sun will burn out
And there
will be no moon to take its place
Things have
a way of reaching a climax
And then
slowly fading away,
Memories are
nothing but fistfuls of sand
Slipping through
arthritic fingers,
One grain at
a time
And so we
turn to photos and videos
To remember
what it was that ended
And what
began in its place
As did my
student life
In six
months no more
All my
classes, professors and friends
Sped by in a
daze of color and sound
While I sat
and looked out from a balcony on the fourth floor
However,
since all comes to an end, I suppose I’m being naive
Because life
is beckoning me onto the next stage
And the
memories I spoke of earlier
Will remain
wrapped in polythene
Somewhere in
the corners of my mind
And so I do
not say farewell
But prefer
to state it thus
Until we
meet again, before we turn to dust
Remember me,
and wish me luck
The Bilge Master
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