Hallways

The fluorescent lights buzz above,

As people walk aimlessly through the hallways

I see faces that are meant to be young,

But they have sunken eyes and shadows of stress,

That only those older should bear.

High School is to prepare you for life,

To handle copious deadlines, and due dates

To be a minuscule mechanical part in a machine,

Just following the command ahead.

To walk through the hallways with your head low because any look can be an offense.

High School is to prepare you for life.

But what does it prepare you for?

Or does it make you numb to the stress.

3 years

Oh to how you’ve grown,

To see how just over the brief amount of time of three years you managed to find and stabilize yourself,

It brings more joy than a mother watching her child grow.

I remember our first few interactions,

You seemed unsteady in this new environment,

Like a fawn on fresh ice.

But you refused to slip and slide, and you firmly planted your hooves down.

The honor and glory to watch you grow,

To see the person you’ve become and to see your feathers form in such glorious colors,

I can only dream to hope that I had some aid in helping you learn to fly with such glorious things.

When I walk that stage,

And take that paper in my hand,

I’ll be proud of me,

But more proud of you.

Proud of how much you’ve grown.

Proud of who you’ve become.

Proud to be your friend.