If I were to have a substitute for my past
I'd replace it with the syllabus.
So like a graduate who finished
The greatest tragedies hastily
Blaming shortage of time,
I'd dig it out again
From the unconscious shelf
And skim down to the past
when you were breathing alive.
I'd relish soliloquies this time
That protagonists often screech,
And the sermons too
The writers gradually beseech.
I'd highlight dialogues
And will use them as quotes,
Will try to understand characters too.
But for the forlorn events,
I'd leave a leaf for remembrance.
Although the course would be over.