covered with grime
aged through the ages
scratch marks of time
little boys contemplate great dreams
great men reminisce little memories
as such we all grow
to the greats and the smalls
into the toil
through white spires or stony arches
experience teaches
nothing but perspective
reigns supreme
O, a different land
towards which I no longer feel
I, an outsider
misplaced
dreaming of home
in a home that was my home
now lying in the past
Few words spoken
Little experiences
great changes
age an early indication of time
yet maturity and wisdom
calls to taunt me
from ascension to my rightful place
Parting ways from college gothic
onwards I travel
double-takes bar none
under arches I pass and spires traverse
a future undefined as defined
pick up my brush
one quick twirl, one quick flick
a line is drawn
completion of this painted
landscape...
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