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bodies march under
the parade of umbrellas,
all multihued suns

in a gray land
of faded asphalt
and ancient brick.

the students’ feet crush
fallen sorrel leaves
over and over,

the trodden path
now a mortar and pestle
for classes— and dreams.

an acorn breaks
someone’s thoughts,
a concept for a paper is lost.

they stop
and the rain waits for them.

but wren rings on.
I've been sitting on this concept for awhile, and decided to merge it with another one. I like to acquire little words and moments for poems and write them from there. This poem (in my opinion) really benefited from collecting and waiting (and from taking my finals)! The poem was written with the culture of my college in mind and with a few references thrown in there, so it may not be fully appreciated by all. But I hope that fellow college students find it relatable.

Suggestions are welcome.
:iconshining-scribe:
Shining-Scribe Featured By Owner Dec 26, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
I feel grayness and tedium here, and college often ends up feeling that way. >.>
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:iconkoahara:
Koahara Featured By Owner Dec 26, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Indeed!
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December 21, 2016
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