I miss the days when topics were of crayons
Of far-reaching fantasies in faraway lands
But now I live for the end of the week
And the will to study is all that I seek

Memories etched with sorrow, some with grime
Prove fleeting, saturated in time
Sopping with shrieks and giggles of glee

Years speed by, as if they are racing
As I am left, frantically chasing
Calling ahead, pleading for them to last
But alas, I am left aghast

All one can do or really say
Is, regardless of past or future, to trek on anyway
And retain the memories of young brevity
For these should withstand for longevity