On the last day, from a crowd,
I came out of the gate with a girl.
With my bicycle, caught in a whirl.
I put my giant bag on the seat
Meanwhile, the girl crossed the street.
So, I led, alone.
Then, three other girls joined
We walked, In a while they left.
Again, three girls. Same.
I was at the end of school lane.
All the girls fled out of sight.
I, alone, pretend to be alright.
In a swift I flew back to the gate,
assuming it wasn't too late.
I was at the gate again.
Hoping we could sing about the rain.
For the last time.
The gate was about to close
But you never got, or you have already gone.
At last, they shut the gate.
From then on, the story couldn't celebrate.
All this scene drew twenty minutes,
If written, two infinitesimals.
To remember, two seconds.
Today, I miss the bicycle.
By the reason that,
I couldn't learn any other bike.
I miss my giant bag,
I feel it's better than the burden I bear now.
I miss the gate,
that leaves two different worlds.
And finally, I miss you, as long as,
In every other, I behold you.










© lowkii21225