Oldest and dearest

Last lecture's done. I stack my scattered notes,
fold up my beaten binder, close my book,
throw pencil, cracked with use, away. My coat's
slung on, then ragged bag. I turn to look
around the quickly emptied classroom where
I studied some, disrupted class a bit,
took piles of quizzes, toyed with frizzing hair,
all while I tried to listen. I admit
I haven't put the effort that I could,
or been the most exemplary student,
but it was fun, this place. I know I would
do nothing differently. I loose a pent
up sigh. It's over, now; all things must end.
I close a gentle door on school, my friend.