Results Day Reverie

In the hollow halls of anticipation,

A quiver runs through the congregation.

Papers rustle like autumn leaves in a storm,

Each one bearing a numerical form.

Dread and hope are twin flames burning,

In young eyes, restless and yearning.

Tick, tock—the clock sings of fate,

Each second a step towards the gate.

Summoned forth, one by one,

To face the tally of what they've done.

A whisper here, a sigh there,

The air thick with the weight of care.

What strange magic numbers hold,

Turning stories of sweat into silver or gold.

A single sheet can make hearts soar,

Or leave dreams washed up on failure’s shore.

Yet amidst the chaos of pass and fail,

A deeper rhythm begins to prevail.

For life is more than a grade's decree,

It's a wild symphony meant to be free.

So let the numbers fall where they may,

And remember the dance, come what may.

For each step taken, each path explored,

Adds up to a life richly scored.

- Nicho