‘Twas the night before grad school, when all the through the apartment, my roommate was stirring, by clicking a mouse. My books on the table, to be read with care, in hopes that all my writing wishes come true.The most recent Poets & Writers ready to be read, anticipating the adventures my classmates and I will lead. My mind buzzing with anxiety for what’s in the future, for I can’t surely fall asleep with what lies ahead.
Instructor emails’ read, classes registered for, now all I have left is to show up at school.
The night will be glistening with stars from above, filled with hopefulness, joy, and of love, love for our future writing, for nothing else could fulfill all that will follow.
Grinning and fawning over our new teachers, we’ll ruminate regarding what our interesting fact is.
Our teachers will bow and welcome us to this journey, called our “writing lives; we can’t believe it, we made it, we got into grad school!
We’ll sit and we’ll listen, hang on their every word, while we scribble notes furiously, not missing a beat.
At the end of the night, we’ll exhale from excitement, and think, “I can’t wait until we do this next week!”
As I sit at my table, constructing this rhyme, I wonder, will I still have the time? The time for my laundry, my friends, and my shows, but most importantly, will I have time to make vows? Will I meet him in school or at a neighborhood bar, or will I be too busy with my nose in a book?
Anxiety is normal, I calmly tell me, cause honestly how often can you say that you’ve clicked? Clicked with life and fulfilling your dreams. Dreams of sharing your love of the word, but most importantly, meeting a bunch of word nerds.
Sighing with glee and of joy, I gladly say, “Happy Grad School to my classmates and may we have a good year!”