Among the many passes, 
There was a time or two 
When o'er the grass and flowers 
I thought a bit of you. 

The way you flew above the earth, 
Your distant honesty, 
Made you a being of such of worth 
As meant a world to me. 

But some things move in orbits  
Eccentric, like a line;  
Among the many passes, 
You soon moved far past mine, 

And though time made us lovers, 
It was but just a thought -- 
For there's no trading in a life, 
And time cannot 

Be bought

---

walking, chatting, 
 groups of students, 
 some lost in conversation, 
 others somewhere off in their minds; 
 reaching, searching, wondering, 
 wanting, asking, sometimes received or receiving -- 
 like ants on an anthill, 
 each to their owns tasks and lives. 

on an early morning, 
 a solitary walker, 
 no longer a student, and 
 with none to converse with; 
 aching, empty, overwhelmed, 
 wanting, past asking, unreceivable -- 
 like a roach in the corpse of a dead building, 
 only seeming alive from a distance. 

time, passing like a curtain between acts -- 
 those who leave never really learn; 
 those who learn never really leave