When so many years turned their course- did you listen?
The bruise on the scraped knee peeking below the school uniform?
While they screamed at us of failure- don't judge us.
A 2 on a 10 in an essay on life- and now doodling out the rhetorics and questions on the back of a copy from last class.
About familiar faces, the oldest jokes and the newest lives that have turned and altered and faded like class photos- white socks, red cardigans.
To tell you- years have passed and thank you for not being the empty desk next to mine.
And when more will pass- the joy of being still able to talk to you. All of you. Any of you.
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