the school bell rings sharply
at nine-twenty in the morning,
echoes across the classroom,
are the usual 'Selamat Pagi, cikgu'.

fast forward to nine-forty,
boring lessons and classes
requires essay crafting
and dream jobs listing,
instead, we wrote fan letters
to be the filial wives of
members from boybands

fast forward to noon,
we were hooked on stories,
from breakups of social divas
to everyone's future college plans.
those were the days,
that should never end.

fast forward to today,
it's now nine-twenty,
greetings for teachers,
are now meetings with bosses,
essays are now reports,
compadres are now colleagues.

memories are the sweet
in the word 'bittersweet',
and I'm starting
to miss the taste,
every time the clock strikes
exactly at nine-twenty.