The Last Day-or is it?

the first time I saw you 

seeped in ethereal beauty were you 

exuding wisdom of generations past 

you stood there with your high-up mast 

red brick walls speak of glories past 

old corridors thumping with young hearts

high browed and snooty, they say

it's excellence based on service, day by day

vibing to the tune of a guitar

between lectures, tutorials and seminars 

shrill laughter under the campus tree

fighting off sleep in the library

I found my heart cut in two

when the last day arrived, did it do? 

for I never can bid you farewell 

you have become part of myself