When did time become cruel
Stealing moments away
As the years clock out your youth,

Every bird flies away from the nest
Every cub becomes a bear,
When the rivers run quick
Don’t be afraid to swim the currents
And find where you fit in.

If wishing wells were real
I’d pour my wealth into the bottom.
I’d wish to go back to the time that we lost
Watching you blossom from just a wee bud
Give you all that I knew at the cost
Knowing some truths hurts more than fiction.

Remembering when you couldn’t stand tall
And the smallest little smirk when you walked vs crawl
Seeing the way you made sense of this all
Like the world was a puzzle you always knew how to solve
And now that you’re here I can’t shake this off
A fear that you’ll never need me again and I fall
Down to my knees and pray that you know.:

I love you, my little bean

And should you ever call
If ever in need —
I can be your shield and armor
Need a sword, I’ll be there and nothing can harm us
Swing for the head and we’ll **** this hydra
I’ll be there to be a prop if you need to stand taller.

Together, maybe we can slow down time,
But no matter the weather, I’ll be there rain or shine
If no one says it, then I’ll yell it louder.
I AM SO PROUD OF YOU BABY!
My beloved daughter.

My average means I don’t have to take final exams.
So my bachelor's degree is a finished product.
I cranked it out, all that’s left now is the walk (May 18th).
Let’s call it my nearly forgotten masterpiece.
My schedule says that I start a 1-year ‘master of public health’ degree in 38 days.

It was my mom’s idea. She said, “You need to keep active” (pre- med-school).
It sounds crazier to me now than it did last year, when I was accepted and agreed.
Now, I feel like some chary, aging showgirl who’s about to be hustled back on-stage.
But what’s life without massive compromise?
Anyway, don’t cry for me. I’m still sizing it all up, I’ll figure it out.

I suppose we’re all out there hustling.
It’s our response to slowing med-school admissions,
those glitches in the medical, industrial education complex
or that’s how the narrative’s shaped, anyway.
It’s not the additional work that bothers me, I’m regular worker bee,

It’s the perma-threat of loneliness.
I’m already packing. Leaving feels real
and I'm surfing this maudlin wave tonight—shading deep blue.
The simple march of time will take away friends I’ve grown to love.
We’ve allegorised and transformed one another by proximity.

I’ve really loved it here.
.
.
Songs for this:
Graduation (Friends Forever) by Vitamin C
Graduation Day by Tony Rivers & The Castaways

I’m finally going to get on that platform
on the 18th of next month,
for a first-time, one-time performance.
The once, seemingly impossible will come fully true,
which seems like a lot narratively.

It’ll be like leaving home—but we’re crashing out.
Moving on to other plot points, big topics and intense missions.
We’re all caustically optimistic.

Although there’s a cellular-level pull to move on
we can’t help but feel a hesitancy to jump into our multifarious futures.
We’ve never been improvident.

In my personal pool of experience, when I feel alone,
friendless and unseen, this unintelligible fear noise arises
and I'm tempted to tap out. But I never have.
.
.
Songs for this:
walk but in a garden by LLusion
What Dreams Are Made Of by Evann McIntosh
I Like You (A Happier Song) [feat. Doja Cat] by Post Malone

the day is nearing close and closer
the day I wear my cap and gown
and walk down the stage
and get handed my diploma
the day I no longer attend high school
the day I leave this town behind
to start my new life
and new beginnings

Feet firm on earth,
still chasing dreams
in a world now his own.

Sweat spills from strong pores,
forging currents of futures
he now shapes.

Tight embraces,
arms steady and sure,
a father’s pride made strong.

Wood and leather,
worked to tough threads—
faith stitched into his resolve.

Grass stains on knees,
still bending the world
to his will,
moved by purpose.

Anthems of hope
rise in his voice,
lifting his father’s soul
to love’s high planes.

The quiet secrets
of love and compassion,
once hidden by modesty,
are now lived out loud.

He follows his path
through shifting fields,
where once slick frogs slipped
through eager hands—

A world he builds,
a world he claims,
a world his father
now trusts to his hands.

Soft hands once held tight,
small fingers grasping
strings of laughter—
bubbles of wonder.

Now, steady hands weave
threads of her own,
spinning life’s fabric
with quiet resolve.

Footsteps that still dance
through sunlit sand
also press firm paths
of wisdom and grace.

Her voice, still a song
belting with fervor,
speaks with echoes
of strength and love.

Mischievous smiles remain,
tempered by time,
yet still lighting the room
with their knowing glow.

Bright eyes, still seeking,
but also seeing—
a future shaped
by hands once guided.

Trusting, complete love—
a father watches,
holding tight to pride,
as she floats beyond—
on threads of time.

it shines like the city
and it breaks like the bridge
and we should be drunk
but this is a school trip
they’d find exhaust in my lungs
if they did my autopsy
i’m soaking up in puddles
wanna breathe gasoline

the heat is too sweaty
and the people don’t smile
and it’s not LA
But let’s stay for a while
and you hate LA
it’s all concrete and palm trees
so let’s go get burgers
let’s go get ice cream

glitter like winners
and it’s sticky out here
and somewhere it’s winter
but somewheres never here
this station’ all yellow
am i in a movie?
this is living, worth filming
i’m finally breathing

scream off the balcony
up 46 floors
suburbs in the sky
wanna break down the door
live like real people
leave our shoes on the floor
watching the sunrise
and still wanting more

Only
When we
Got the chance to have some fun
Did the clocks speed up;
Day four’s soon going to be
Day one.
Why is it that only
Now’s when happiness
Showed itself to me?
Only at the last few
Weeks do the hues
Finally separate themselves from black
And white.
And only if time might
Turn itself back
Would I have held onto
You
For longer, or just taken more
Time for
That move on the chessboard.
Perhaps I would’ve played less
Of Stress;
Would’ve known not to say yes
To the extra responsibilities
Standing between you and me.
But now
The cards have fallen, I don’t know
How
I can do so
Much in three days–
There are
Far
Too many things I didn’t say.
And now my
Heart aches for the times
That passed by
Where I thought
I’d be happy to leave.
Would it be too late to say
“Guess not”?