This poem is dedicated to my first college roommate, Sam, and several friends who have come and gone–as foreign exchange students tend to do.
I walked into the ballroom
And I looked up towards the clock,
Observing how the hands turned ‘round
And ticked without a stop.
Knowing you’d soon leave me,
I still leapt and took a chance:
For the ball will end at midnight,
But there’s beauty to the dance.
If life’s about the leavings
There’s still much I’ve left to learn:
Like how to form a friendship
And then let them go in turn.