The Filler

The last few days before school starts.

Standing on the platform waiting for the oncoming train,
my memories are folded and tucked at the back of my mind like packed luggage.
Feeling the bliss that caress me like gentle breeze blowing through my hair.

Subtly, the train will reach this stop.
But there's still time to reminisce.

Imperata cylindrica is tall and thin, but it can't fly with the wind.
A mistake or a lie, it doesn't matter.
Now its overlooked.
There's much more of its kind.

But here's a salute to it.
Veined with iron it is, it's an attribute of the commander it self-proclaimed to be.
It was, afterall, a more favoured weed.

It's time for me to slip this piece of memory back into my bag.
Instead, I look forward to where the train will head.
Over the hills, through the meadows.
Passing the weeds.

But at least,
there will be flowers too.

At this very instance, another train sped onto the track that I just came from.
But there's no going back for me now.
For I only hold onto an one way ticket.

That's life.