College Life

I came in with droves of refugees,
The survivors of the wastes,
Those nine hundred or so permitted to enter,
The jealously guarded oasis.

We were at peace in the scholastic paradise,
The bibliophile's haven,
Cleansed of those who were deemed unfit,
the stupid, brutish and craven.

We learned few laughed, and revelled in our fact,
Life was pleasant and true,
We wanted for nothing, we were content,
We smiled as our intellects grew.

No sooner had I set foot past the gates,
Than I saw the most beautiful girl in the land,
I cared not for my books at that moment in time,
I wanted for nought but her hand.

'Most Beautiful' is not a title bestowed,
casually, flippant, or off-hand.
She really was the loveliest creature,
Amidst our scholarly band.

So I approached her smiling, gingerly first,
But later with stronger conviction.
She was cordial enough, neither joyous nor glum,
And I feared for unwitted friction.

I inquired if she would care to dine with me,
If my company she would endure,
She politely declined, She had no interest,
This girl of untold allure.

Defeated, dejected, I returned to my books,
But the splendour of knowledge was dead,
The useless words and pages were moot,
So eagerly I sought for my bed.

I woke later on, my mood still sour,
Although the pain was less than I feared,
So I recovered my studies, and picked up my pen,
And my head with this poem I cleared.