The sands of time have slipped through my fingers,
The accretion sometimes bemuses me.
I had been cloistered by these very walls,
Which seem claustrophobic now.
These pathways seem to have narrowed,
These ceilings , they seemed to converse with the empyrean,
Now they are an arm’s reach away.
These lawns were a sea of green on which I floated in thought,
The sea has dried into a blot of green.
But as I prepare to leave this haven,
I have packed more memories than clothes,
The emotional baggage , heavier, but gossamery ,
The accrual of experiences with the years gone by,
My childhood has been peeled by now,
But inside, deep inside, I’m still raw.
These memories, this nostalgia, is not taking a step back,
But taking two steps forward to whatever awaits me.