It goes like this
We are sitting around a table,
Laughing
Crying
Smiling
All in joyous reverence
On this most memorable of nights.
We celebrate by having our final glances, our last smiles, our memorable laughter.
Some are happy to be over with this,
Others despondent, unable to deal with moving on with a uplifted heart and eyes set on the future.
But we all do so anyway.
The music is soft, and happy.
To represent this journey. Short and sweet, so swift, yet we could only know that at this table.
Now everything moves slowly.
Surely we are not new to these emotions, these thoughts. Surely we have danced this very dance.
Handshakes, hugs, laughs.
It moves slower now. The laughter dies down, and we breathe slower, and then the most innocent of yawns,
And as it closes, we know it has ended.
Severed, never to be, a fleeting thought now on the ground, never to be retrieved, even if we were kind and good and our parents said we could.
The music dies, but no one catches it end, as it is too quiet. We want to be never too sure that it has ended. Another handshake, this time firmly, transforms into tears. And then a hug, and then blackness.
Complete, finished, words are on the floor, the lights down. And we see in the middle of the room, a boy, curled up, crying, and another sleeping soundly into the night .
30/08/12
We are sitting around a table,
Laughing
Crying
Smiling
All in joyous reverence
On this most memorable of nights.
We celebrate by having our final glances, our last smiles, our memorable laughter.
Some are happy to be over with this,
Others despondent, unable to deal with moving on with a uplifted heart and eyes set on the future.
But we all do so anyway.
The music is soft, and happy.
To represent this journey. Short and sweet, so swift, yet we could only know that at this table.
Now everything moves slowly.
Surely we are not new to these emotions, these thoughts. Surely we have danced this very dance.
Handshakes, hugs, laughs.
It moves slower now. The laughter dies down, and we breathe slower, and then the most innocent of yawns,
And as it closes, we know it has ended.
Severed, never to be, a fleeting thought now on the ground, never to be retrieved, even if we were kind and good and our parents said we could.
The music dies, but no one catches it end, as it is too quiet. We want to be never too sure that it has ended. Another handshake, this time firmly, transforms into tears. And then a hug, and then blackness.
Complete, finished, words are on the floor, the lights down. And we see in the middle of the room, a boy, curled up, crying, and another sleeping soundly into the night .
30/08/12
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