Our caps flew like confetti.
Thank god I customized mine.
I'll keep it as a memento of all-nighters,
friendships formed in the academic trenches,
dismissive professors and group-project-tortures.

This isn’t another ‘drunk girl’ holiday, despite obvious similarities.
Our parents, sisters, brothers, and grandmothers are here.

We came in doe-eyed, holding overpriced planners,
and enough provisions for two year Mars missions.
We hoped to discover friends, decent Wi-Fi signals
and perhaps our adult selves.

Now we're holding diplomas, those future-proofing talismans.
Mine’s in molecular biophysics and biochemistry.
Which is wry, because when I was in high school,
my sister accused me of not knowing how to boil water.

I've been asked "What’s next?" a thousand times in the last month.
I have plans—but I was dying to shrug and say, “that’s tomorrow’s problem,” like I’ve spent major duckets, degree wise, but remain the ditzy blonde.
The standard graduate answer, I’ve heard, is "I dunno."
(though honestly, it’s a great answer).

Congratulations, all of you graduating overachievers out there—everywhere.
Go forth, be fabulous and find that next big dream.
Can you believe we actually did this?
Argh! I gotta go, someone wants another picture.
.
.
Songs for this:
What Dreams Are Made Of by Evann McIntosh
Summer Wind by Robert Mosci
Tomorrow by Wings

Amulets and Talismans
Hide your daughters, arm your sons
Something wicked this way comes
There's evil o'er the land

Coats of grey and coats of blue
Pick a side, which one are you?
The dead are many, survivors few
Freedom is at hand

The fields are littered with the dead
What once was gold, now bleeds red
Corpses now grow here instead
What cost does freedom bring?

Crimson now does paint the earth
The blood of boys scant years from birth
They gave their lives, for what it's worth
Hear the bells of freedom ring

Two hundred years and more since then
The tides of war begin again
An endless circle with no end
Arm your daughters, arm your sons

Talismans and Amulets
Don't protect from fighter jets
It's sad how soon the world forgets
Something wicked this way comes....