The Last of It
My last first day of classes,
My last move-in at PC,
My last summer before college,
Have all come and gone.
They slipped right past my eyes,
As I wiped away the everyday
Wear and tear of my mind’s mirror.
Like stained fingerprints,
Ones that can only be spotted from
the glare of a certain angle.
I can no longer let my memory defeat me.
I must move on, taking in every last bit of this year.
In front of me, a towering stance glares from the end of the road.
My last dance at PC,
My last day of classes,
My last time surrounded by most of these people—
I am fearful of those future endeavors.