Embossed in its very air,
the (now) precious tomfooleries,
the endless repartee on trivialities,
and the freedom
to craft newer ways to err.

I put down a loaded bag,
leaving the old books,
to lift another equally hefty.
One that carries
the fruit of duties, deeds and discipline.

My feet, alongside the entrance
which once stood so tall,
timidly stride on a new course.
And perhaps,
would create a few of their own.

Hauled by nostalgia, I stop
and give a last parting glance
to my fourteen-year-old dwelling,
only to realize
that it had taken me in for-ever.

Neethi (10 Aug 1990)

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/leaving-school-3/