~ Arshia Vora [Batch of 2020]
The morning dark, sunny or wet,
Each day for twelve years we would get
Ready to go to school,
And now that I’m leaving, it seems too soon.
More than a decade of sitting in classes
And Holding our breath for the ring of the bell;
So much fun in the whispering and talking,
And chatting with all of our friends.
Sayonara to the warm, brown, open field,
Always the center of all our appeals,
Alive with the gasps and the peals and the shouts
And the desperate sprints and the thrum of the crowd.
Adios to the old banyan tree
Standing tall for centuries,
Hiding behind its bark, swinging from its roots,
Or sprinting around it; the school’s artery.
Au revoir to the halls where we had our assembly
And so many events, each colour a family.
Roaring as one with the might of each house,
Thrumming to the rhythms of each and every sound.
Ciao to the Annual Sports Day,
Rallying to get the other houses under your sway,
The rush of victory, the bite of loss;
Winning the House Cup to raucous applause.
Aloha to the Annual Concert,
Again and again, dancing till it hurt.
Choreographing the dances, putting coordination to the test;
Ensuring our class danced the best.
Goodbye to the people who proved to be a power
Strong enough to rattle the stars;
A wonderful sort of family;
Here’s to the ‘Batch of Twenty-Twenty.'
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