March 18, 2014 § Leave a comment
Perhaps if our clocks were in sync
at a quarter past eight
and you gazed up at a cloud floating west
to find it reminded you
of a day with shallow fountains
and blindingly bright skies
old yearbooks and made-up songs
and looking past the cloud and past
the sky, would you perhaps see
centrifugal force spinning,
a constant dance holding two
together, and perhaps if I checked the time
on my wrist at a quarter past eight
but saw turned tables and opened doors
years passing, but seconds remaining still
perhaps the earth would gently tilt
and perhaps, for once, gravity
would be on our side and
in that moment of you being there
and I, being here,
perhaps we would somehow
find a way back
to each other
Ode To My Diploma
February 11, 2014 § 3 Comments
I trudged to my mailbox one day in the cold
to find an envelope proclaiming “Do Not Fold.”
I opened it quickly to find you in my hand,
a single piece of paper, worth close to forty grand.
So unassuming and simple, almost nonchalant,
your importance only revealed by your fancy Gothic font.
My years of arduous and tedious work, of essays and exams,
all culminate in this single sheet, weighing just 4.5 small grams.
While I hiked uphill to the library, in the coldest nights of winter,
you waited patiently in Strong Hall, blank card-stock in the printer.
You were just a piece of paper, not sure what you’d become
and now, congrats Diploma, you’re something to be hung.
On my office wall you’ll go, next to your undergraduate twin,
at the very top of the paper-chain, in a frame looking out from within.
So thank you, little Diploma, for validating my dedication,
without you I’d just be a student, awaiting graduation.
And on the other end of the coin, perhaps in another time and place,
without me you’d be just a napkin, wiping someone’s face.