A villanelle in iambic pentameter I wrote for class about leaving the gym I've been at for eleven years and moving on into the unknown.

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Goodbye Past

.

Torn away ere my time, leaving my past,

"Moving on is good," they say. I don't know.

Am I ready to be more than Gymnast?

.

Wait for me! This is all moving too fast.

Do I have to leave and hit this deep low?

Torn away ere my time, leaving my past,

.

This time in the safety has been my cast.

All I wish is that now it would go slow.

Am I ready to be more than Gymnast?

.

Sailing without the necessary mast,

Anchor in tow, I'm not ready to grow.

Torn away ere my time, leaving my past,

.

It's an overwhelming, heartbreaking blast.

Not ready for the untimely arrow,

Am I ready to be more than Gymnast?

.

I turn out the light and walk out at last,

Leaving now I see, is not a deathblow.

Torn away ere my time, leaving my past,

I am ready to be more than Gymnast.

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