Soldier
As I march away from Pearson’s embrace,
Through the woods where memories wander,
I bid adieu to my best days,
With a heavy heart, I ponder
Soldiers alike, standing tall and proud
Amidst the chaos and the crowd
Warriors’ spirit, firm and strong
But within, aware I am it won’t be too long
With friends made, the laughter shared,
Lessons learned the moments bared,
Bonds we forged, so deep and true,
Now fade away, I bid adieu
Farewell, Pearson days, cherished and dear
In my heart, your memories I’ll hold near.
Poet
As I pen this final verse,
My heart aches with pain so deep,
For every word I write,
Brings me closer to eternal sleep.
Like the soldier who marches forth,
To fight for freedom and pride,
I bid farewell to all I have known,
Furthermore, the life I had by my side.
Like the poet who weaves words,
To bring joy and hope to all,
I leave behind a legacy,
That will continue to enthrall.
Furthermore,
like the king who rules with might,
I relinquish my throne with grace,
Knowing that my time has come,
To depart from this mortal place.
Nevertheless, fear not,
Dear reader,
For though my voice may be still,
My words will live on forever,
Furthermore, my spirit shall never be nil.
For as long as there are hearts to feel,
And minds to contemplate,
My goodbye piece will endure,
As a testament to life's fateful fate.
King
Amidst the stairs of Maxbell’s of stony keep,
A king sat down to write and weep,
For change was coming, swift and fast,
A transition from his high school past.
The friends he'd made, the bonds he'd forged,
Would soon be severed, nevermore engorged,
By laughter, stories, and silly jests,
Now memories, cherished at best.
He'd read the Pearson log, old and new,
But none could soothe this feeling blue,
Of loss and longing, fear and pain,
A chapter of life, about to wane.
But still he wrote, with practised pen,
For poetry was his solace then,
A way to express the inexpressible,
To capture moments, unforgettable.
He wrote of goodbyes, and of loss,
Of transition, and the great unknown,
Of the journey that lay ahead,
And the memories that had led.
He used concrete details, sights and sounds,
To paint a picture of the Tennis Court,
The classrooms( woodward), the docks, the cafeteria too,
All familiar, yet now askew.
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