Susan finished school a year early in order to "hurry up." This poem reflects the struggle she had to make that decision, but I think it reflects the feeling most of us have about highschool. I know these poems don't need my commentary, but sometimes I just can't help myself.
The halls are empty now
Except for me.
It is seven-thirty and twilight
Gently covers the dusty beams
With warm darkness.
Except for me,
There is no one here,
I think.
The echoeing footsteps must be mine.
The bannister returns my grasp,
Offering solace.
I cry.
A school is such a lonely place at night,
So full of dreams, remembrance,
So loud the solitude!
It insistently grasps my shoulder,
Begs me to turn around.
I will not.
I cannot leave my spirit with this melancholy assembly.
I cannot.
Tell myself-All do;
No one leaves the school completely.
We leave them here, our bittersweet alter-egos.
I step out the door.
And I do not.
I remain there forever.
Susan J. Skinner
copyright 2011/all rights reserved
The halls are empty now
Except for me.
It is seven-thirty and twilight
Gently covers the dusty beams
With warm darkness.
Except for me,
There is no one here,
I think.
The echoeing footsteps must be mine.
The bannister returns my grasp,
Offering solace.
I cry.
A school is such a lonely place at night,
So full of dreams, remembrance,
So loud the solitude!
It insistently grasps my shoulder,
Begs me to turn around.
I will not.
I cannot leave my spirit with this melancholy assembly.
I cannot.
Tell myself-All do;
No one leaves the school completely.
We leave them here, our bittersweet alter-egos.
I step out the door.
And I do not.
I remain there forever.
Susan J. Skinner
copyright 2011/all rights reserved
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