To each time, there is a sunset.
Old age follows the flower of youth.
Semesters bring their terrible finals weeks.
So too with time at BYUI.
No one carries a class load forever,
Fond friends never remain in town.
People ask, will you miss this place?
My answer, this is just a place,
like any other place. No different.
But the people though,
Ah, now that is different.
The people make the place.
They make it warm, inviting, home.
Through their doors I have passed many times.
"JOE!"
So, I won't miss the place,
but I will miss the people.
The best people under the
blues, reds, oranges, yellows and purples of
heaven.
1 comment:
I agree. It is most definitely the people one misses most when one moves to another place.
Nice poem.
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