My Last Ink

Wearing the green tie, for one last time

I wonder, where did all the time fly?

At the lasts, is where I stand

and haze the day it all began.

What day was it?

On which my socks painted themselves with stripes of green

Or when our green-yellow i-cards split into Y,B,M,P,P,B,

Or the last time I chanted the English prayer in sync,

Could you tell me, please?

When was it ?

the last assembly with a projector show,

the day Matilda in class I saw?

Where did the brown primary chairs go?

Or just where did the house badges run off to?

Or when the tunics morphed into skirts?

Or half pants grew to full

Was it then we grew up too?

Is the quadrangle still await,

for us, with chocolates and Christmas presents?

Is the music-dance room yet silent,

for we left it alone with the instruments?

Are the pencils still angry at me,

or just playing tag with five lined copies

Perhaps because I turned to inks?

Would this stage remember us?

for our tickle dance and wobbly steps

dressed as clumsy, trying our best

while we all moved no similar to the rest?

Would these corridors know us too?

For our unlined steps,

and how we grew.

Where I walk down, wondering

Where did all the time fly?

For my steps feel heavier each time,

Could you please, tell me why?

Why is it ?

That the classes seem longing yet?

Why with every metal bell struck,

no one smiles anymore?

Is it the marbles on the floors

that we are slipping away?

Or Is everyone dreading the day

On which there shall be the last bell

bidding us farewell,

and we would leave, with stories to tell.