My tour ---left my feet to
Impersonate a college
dream.
There they all where
on the paths next to
The greenest grass
I will ever see.
These girls love to
Hear the sounds
Moving out of
Sheinbeck hall.
He presses down
two valves his trumpet waking up the crammed dormant minds
Of some carelessly young freshmen of philosophy.(they need rest)He made himself
Practice because he loves
The silvery tone escaping from his lips. (I the feeling)
The geology rocks know about his favorite jazz.
I saw one swing around the class through a clear unsmudged window.
Hes been hear and earned a sabaticle.  But like me and
The girl whose  skirts flowwith georgious leaves of ivy inside the
Libary will die before they budge to leave  behind the old court yard bell melody.  The sounds they read upon.
We all wish these days will never end.