Just for one day

"It's funny how time can make a place shrink,make the strangeness of it all seem ordinary"

Half a butterfly wing buried in gravel,
An empty bag pack and the last lunch box ever.
The last one minute of silence spent  staring at OMG carved out on the wooden desk top.
The day feels infinitesimal and infinite at the same time,which is kind of symbolic of how school feels on the whole,maybe.
The waking up- and -sulking about it being Monday morning,always running a second too late for assembly,scribbling a few sentences at least of last night's home work,dancing at the end of last period on Friday,loving the contents of your neighbour's lunchbox more than yours,struggling not to giggle in the assembly line,making up intellectual quotes for the thought for the day,Bullshit-ing through the tests and bunking in the hide out.Oh,and special mention to all the lost stationery that strangely disappeared each day.It all seems so stretched out it becomes normal.In the end,it always seems so surreal and the finality never hits you on time.
And all the hurried scribbling on t-shrts and notebooks on how much you'll miss your class mates can never come close to describing that feeling of knowing there is a definite end,and awaiting it but not quite a anticipating the swiftness at which it seems to have arrived.You'll never wake up groggy at 7 am running for the same kind of normal anymore and you'll probably not see a lot of the same people again or have the chance to know them better and that's overwhelmingly bitttersweet.

Countdown.

Let the light humble you to the truest form of existence,
let the warmth kindle the soft edged fire that burns behind your lids.
It's about time you took charge and set those recurring sparks finally aflame.
The filtering shadows of heat can curdle into one golden moment of  purpose-
The trail of shimmer is leading you on,asking you to follow.
To discover rooms filled with the bittersweet iridescence of fragmented dreams,
To walk into ventures of the stark bright lightness of loving and living.
All the way to yet another new end of a line-
The tightrope's safer end now in firm,reassuring grip.

Beaded melody.

Happy Childrens' Day,Peksshi Jojo.:*

The sun hilts its rays upon your face,
Lightens up all hidden grace.
I found it,yes,the perfect place-
It is for you and I to embrace.
We'll run away and leave no trace.

And bring along your string of beads,
Pink and black,their mystery leads,
we'll hold them close in times of need,
string them along with wild,wild seeds.
Enchanting songs they'll make us heed.

On black and pink,the sunlight will fall,
(Screw it,I can't rhyme this anymore.)
them beads will catch it,make it scatter across.
Like hippie souls,we'll dance like homegrown songs.
Our gypsy beads,our sole companions,
And all their worth will shine upon you like wisdom.