Six days remain of sleeping past dawn. Six days until my summer is gone. On my palm is the code to my lock. Acting cool as I look at the clock. But new shoes aren't filling my mind. It’s a friend from last year I must find. His hallway jokes made me laugh out loud. Now I search for his face in the crowd. All my friends ask if I have my gear. But I just want to pause the whole year. When I think of the doors, my heart shakes. Wondering what kind of difference it makes. In six days the hallways will fill. Six days of that middle school chill. Did he move, or will he appear? Will I see his bright smile this year? They all say seventh grade is a test. And the butterflies won't let me rest. Checking old messages, reading the list. Thinking of classmates I've missed. If he walks through the entrance, what then? Will he look up and choose me again? In-between being young and a teen. Stuck inside of a middle-ground scene. Trying hard not to show any stress. With a six-day count left to guess. My mind drifts to the end of June. A loud bus and a field trip afternoon. In the very last row, three seats wide. Sharing snacks side-by-side on the ride. With the breeze blowing right through the glass. Watching trees and the highway lines pass. We just talked without caring the least. That long ride was a summer-time feast. All my friends ask if I have my gear. But I just want to pause the whole year. When I think of the doors, my heart shakes. Wondering what kind of difference it makes. If I spot him in line for our room, I'll pretend I'm not filled with this gloom. Will another bus trip ever start? Or did summer just tear us apart? Hands are freezing and pulse starting to race. A new chapter is taking its place. Just one glance makes the temperature drop. Or it makes all my worrying stop. In six days the hallways will fill. Six days of that middle school chill. Did he move, or will he appear? Will I see his bright smile this year? They all say seventh grade is a test. And the butterflies won't let me rest. Six days. Is he coming back? A fresh start or the same old track? Ready or not. Yeah, six days. Here come the nerves. Just six days. Feeding the butterflies inside.
