Creative Futures

As I begin to write this poem
here in creative writing class
all else becomes so very dim.
Dim like the future- dim like the past.

Creative cogs begin to turn,
but I can't help but to think of the end.
When we're through the twists and turns
will any of us remain friends?

Will each seek out our own future?
Or will we walk in a straight line?
Will we conspire with the urge
to leave all of this behind?

We might again collaborate-
then again we might not- ever.
But whatever is brought by fate-
memories will last forever.

We haven't faced these partings grim.
Creative days have yet to pass-
because I have finished this poem
here in creative writing class.