Time is a cruel teacher, merciless.

I watched seniors graduate, then

took their place.

I learned poetry is in people

and places, and that things

change, even people. 

 

I felt our hearts grow apart,

said the hardest goodbye I

ever gave, and crumbled. 

Time is a cruel healer, slow.

But--I'm pretty sure--it's the

only way.

 

The clock is a harsh motivator

with no sympathy, and that's

exactly what I need.

Crunch-time kept me in line

when I needed to decide and I

know now just where I'm going.

 

Three hundred and sixty-five

days passed by in a haze--

the only way I know how.

Now I've grown, and now

I'm stronger, I think, because I'm

more myself than I've ever

 

been before, but I'm not done.

Not yet, no. Not even close.