The hands of the clock
Slowly but attentively speak
“Tick-tock, Tick-tock”
And the tapping chalk
Grasped firmly in the teacher’s grip
Dabs the board to the rhythm of
A student’s bored drum rolls

I sigh as if I am a prisoner of my own desk
With my math binder open wide
And the teacher blabbing away
About pi and equations
Longingly, I glance out the sun stained window
And carefully observe the empty playground

I dream that I am on the swings flying high
Like a bird on flight to Paradise
And clambering the ladder-like steps
To glide down the slide
More quick and slipping
Like a snake slithering through the green grass
As rest of the children cheer along
Filling the void of the playground
Immersed in their own play

“Tick-tock, Tick-tock”
The sound reverberates
And I open my dreary eyes
“Five, four, three, two one,”
I count as the bell informs me that
I am no longer a prisoner of my own desk