Ode to the English grad
by Carla
Ode to the English grad
The task, it seemed impossible,
The odds were almost nil.
How could my reading of Keats
Translate to those obsessed with excel spread sheets?
For six months I accepted my fate
And allowed myself to wait.
Out there, there had to be
Some people who would get me?
My mother and father lost all hope
I started to think I was a bit of a dope.
And lo, the email arrived
I needed to be dressed to the nines.
With haste to the place I raced.
Could this be the way to change my fate?
The title of my life was shifting;
Tragedy was no longer my thing.
To Liz and Sarah I implored
I was skilled to some degree. I was sure?
In reply they said: “Okay,
We will give it six months and a day.”
And so the internship began
I was so pleased I am sure I sang.
Six months have passed so far
And skills I have – to be sure.
The English grad, to my great surprise,
Has skills and thoughts to be prized.
“A job” they said to me
And so I came to this ditty.
And so I no longer need worry
About Romeo, Juliet or how they were sorry.
Their stories held some purpose
And in the end I am not work-less.
Fear not lovers of rhyme,
Alliteration and maybe a bit too much wine.
Our people have a place
All you need to do is wait.