Highbench Pen..

This is about my highschool memory.

Within the cluster of rackety, I sat silent,
Looking up to a wonder.
All I see all I remember is a thick roof,
beneath who's we sang songs, drew swords of fancy,
ran as the captain of pirates or got married for a day.
From whacks of sticks to claps of honor,
the glee corridors soon became silent.
We went to hills to rivers or to towns with a big station,
either to protect the rest or to provide for the remaining.
My heart echoes the joyous days, my pen still draws the lovely face.
Oh if I were the juvenile poet, I would write my kisses,
so they never had to be petals of fall again.
I would hold your hand to the jardín de flores,
to keep you safe from the buzzling out.
I would have become your poet laureate,
and our flower's favorite author, not just any calc professor.
All I want is to be the boy again,
the one with the freedom to make you mine
to make my dreams come true,
to hold you out of the blue,
have a different path, a different life.
All to have, just you.