Well, not my graduation obviously, but while I was working the shouts from the trucks full of happy students lured me away from analysis and numbers. Here's a poem on time. Bittersweetness and all.
Time trickles like rain behind the pane.
Bleary eyes measure each gain
and each loss on a rusty scale.
Cheery voices fill the distance
with memories of youth.
Old eyes wither, but first they glitter
with a smile for summer.
