P.S   I was revisiting my old school and classmates, the poem begins in my old school's music room. As for my classmates, they were having their lessons so I chilled. Also, cantonese is one of my main languages, English and Mandarin are the other two.

You Look Different
The cleaner walked in at eleven fifty,
Brush, broom, bright blue uniform.
I've seen her before,
Just never got to say hi, what's your name?

I've been in here since ten fifteen,
Piano keys, guitar strings, rubber band,
Played them already.
Nothing else to do so I continued anyway.

"You play really well," she said in canto.
"Thanks," I said, what else to say I don't know.
Sonorous notes, sweet tune, silence.
She looked at me.
"Are you skiving?"
"No but I was a student here before."
"Ah, I see... You look different."

The new bell rang flamboyantly at twelve thirty.
Streaming down stairs, swarming the cafeteria, starving.
Gotta run.
He and I made our way through the throng towards the queue.

There's about six people in front and it's just 'twenty three!
Pasta, pizza... Oh look there's macarons!
"I'm buying you lunch"
He payed for both of us and we went to the garden.

At our usual table, my friend was there too.
Blue table, under the tree, three of us.
"Gotta get my books for next period."
She left, we stayed, now it's just us two.

At first it feels like nothing's changed.
Same place, same time... Same people?
He glanced at me.
"I'm gonna go now, bye."
"Ok, bye." I watched him leave.
Somethings are still the same but they're different.

Walking alone around the school, it's twelve fifty.
Crowded cafeteria, Chartwells cafe, basketball court.
He's there.
I watched them play for a bit before heading upstairs.

I left at about one, the bus rumbled at the stop just now.
One, two, three (me) passengers.
The bus is pretty much empty at this hour.
I spent the entire ride looking out the window,
Watching road lines and fences blurr.
This town is always changing,
But it will always be my hometown.
Graffiti callously sprayed on
Walls, fences, roadsides.
It's not the town but the people who are different.

Just arrived at my stop at one thirty.
Neat streets, roundabout, pastel coloured apartments.
I got off.
The bus drove away, rumbling to a gentle purr in the distance.

As I crossed the road, I spotted a familiar amiable corgi,
Scuffle, my neighbor's dog, just back from a walk.
I gave Scuffle a quick pat,
Said hi to my neighbor before heading home.

Home at last,
Showered, changed, chilled.
Combing my hair in front of the mirror,
I stared into her eyes.
Nothing's changed.
But Thought whispered,
"You look different."