By Mya Rogers, Associate Creative Writing Editor
A collaboration with the students of Royal Holloway, University of London.
I remember the day I first moved here,
In that time where autumn is beginning to introduce itself to the world,
But there are still remnants of a warmer time:
Like the way the trees whistle on a mild summer evening,
Or the sunsets that shine silently in the distance,
A ball of fire, feigning fear behind the founder’s building.
Yet, yellow must fade to orange-
Or, orange must fade to red,
Reminding me that nothing lasts forever;
Reminding me that the seasons change,
The trees shed their leaves, weeping for a forgotten time,
And the colour seems to be taken from everything-
Just like how the sky is getting darker,
Hiding our campus’ beauty from a visitors view.
But if you change too, you’ll find the beauty once more.
Behave like you’re the main character,
Walking through the gates to the place you now call home,
And see the front face of founders, lit in deep blue hues,
A midnight shade, to match the midnight hour that just
Struck,
On the clock.
Take a closer look still, and you’ll find that
Each section of the building stands separately,
Bordered like a comic book panel;
Queen Victoria proudly playing the protagonist of this story.
As winter pulls a chilling blanket of snow over our grounds,
I find that Boilerhouse is the place to go:
My academia aesthetic, aching for the comfort of the old architecture,
A place to stay and do nothing for hours,
And my cold hands clasping onto the hope of a hot chocolate
From the café, next to the building with “the two massive chimneys”.
My drink is ordered,
My feet are planted in the queue,
But my mind is immersed in imagination,
Thinking of a time not so long ago,
And a time not so far ahead.
When the colour, coats all of nature’s creations,
Allowing me to return to the forest, to sit on the bench in front of the lake,
Not counting the hours that pass as I admire
The ducks and birds and flowers and clouds.
But mostly, I cannot wait for the blanket covering our grounds, to warm once more,
So that the gang from Reid B pantry,
Can re-possess our place on the stairs of the nearby building,
Waiting till dusk so that we can watch the lights turn on
As we overlook the city,
Subtly scooching together, protecting ourselves from the spring night air that pricks our skin,
And forming friendships that’ll last a lifetime.
As I take my hot chocolate and make my way towards a seat,
I can think only one thing:
Royal Holloway is, Everlasting and Iconic.