Poem? Maybe.
Once in a while,
a classroom buzzing with chatter
suddenly grows quiet,
then all you hear is the scratching of pencils and pens against paper with the occasional rustle of pages turning.
It hits you, then...consciousness.
Moments like that make me ache with bittersweet feelings. Nostalgia.
Like when I'm home alone and sunlight seeps into my living room...
a classroom buzzing with chatter
suddenly grows quiet,
then all you hear is the scratching of pencils and pens against paper with the occasional rustle of pages turning.
It hits you, then...consciousness.
Moments like that make me ache with bittersweet feelings. Nostalgia.
Like when I'm home alone and sunlight seeps into my living room...