Goodnight dear friends who found a new…
And drink to old times we rehash when we’re back
And drive with convertible tops down and halter tops too.
So that when we pass Christian Hill, and Katrina’s Aunt Jane’s house
We shriek so loud the elementary school librarian turns on the lights
Of the 19th century  green high roofed home, with that neat front porch
Where the last family decorated the wicker swing
Goodnight my high school where fondness lurks and relationships rest.
Never will we go back, as much as you like that.
And these are the things, the forgotten things, I dread.
As you like it, I shall dread it.