Is there a way argue with time,
And negotiate your mistake,
Of forcing it on its way?
Like to hold a growing child in your arms,
Wishing to never let him go.
This is one of those hazy days.
At once you know it will be
A memory, the image slowly dripping into
The past of a teenage mind.
Together on the grass at school,
In striped ties, music filling our voices.
Outrageous toasts and promises sail,
On the wind of warm summer breeze.
Where will we all be,
‘This time next year?’
On the other side of the looking glass,
Peering in from exam results and fallen dreams.
One might say, ‘I don’t want to grow up!’
But even as we lie and slowly burn,
Underneath the afternoon glaze of sunbeam,
We are drifting apart, arms no longer laced,
The uniform that bounds our childhoods,
Tearing at the seams.
Since you wrote "Exam Blues" as well! Oh well. Forget about that.
