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Senior Year

I’m a cozy spot in a yellow hue,
A house that’s small, but stories grew.
With creaky floors and couches deep,
I come alive when others sleep.
On Tuesdays, brains go head to head—
With trivia questions widely spread.
Laughter rings and guesses fly,
As teams compete and hours glide by.
Though younger folks may long to stay,
Only seniors sip here, end of day.
A rite of passage, small and sweet—
Where final years and friendships meet.

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Office of Alumni Relations

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