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Tick Tock
April 26, 2009
The hand dwindles by each number
as if it is passing by for the final time
my penmenship turns to scribble
the moment I think of being by him
This teacher's hum drum, I can take no more
I long to run ecstatically out the door
into his firm intoxicating aura
I sit and daydream through this long chatter, this bore
his seat vacant, depressing me
if only he could grace us with his prescence
I want to be wrapped like a present in his arms
not sit here and stare at this remembrance
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