I Pass.., As I Fail

Grade Me on the Curve
by: Rob Paquin

The wind whispers and I hear it
Words form inside my mind
Intent is felt and I feel it
Not much left to find.

Yet still I wander and tarry
One foot in front of the other
The trail is cold and lonely
A cub without its mother

The sky it sits there waiting
For the sun that's yet to rise
Another couple mating
With moonbeams in their eyes

The fog is never lifting
The future still obscured
The present smiles upon us
But there is nothing to be cured

Puzzles left unfinished
Tests still left to take
The tutors are all diminished
The curving grade; Still fake.

~The Snowdog