These halls,
where laughter mingles with the perpetual bells.

Almost like a tapestry,
a tapestry of voices, with loads of stories to tell.

Here, a friendship blooms and evaporates with every year,
yet remains the echoes of our youth,
always so near.

I still feel the playground's pulse — so bold, so free.
A playground where we would bend the rules incessantly,
and joy was almost like a currency.

In tags and hide and seeks, and the myriad of secrets we would share,
a path to the universe was paved for us,
a path for children so unprepared.

Teachers, who would guide us with the gentle hand of kindness,
and shape our minds to help us;
to help us understand.

A life more than a mere grade, and more than those tedious accolades.
A new meaning was taught, a life of kindness, courage, and most importantly, to cherish those memories —
the memories that would once fade.

As years pass, and we grow further and further apart,
these days are what we hold within our beating hearts.

Once upon a time, where the playground would pulse,
to today, where stress forevermore imparts.

In those corridors, in those halls,
we indeed learned to be;
the architects of our own destiny.