I still hear pencils tapping,
as if I was sitting in the second row,
at my own small desk.

I can feel the blood rush to my head,
sitting upside down on the sofa,
with my legs over the head rest.
Talking on the cordless phone.

I see the sand pebbles,
collecting in my converse,
from afternoon bike rides at the beach.

The coolest breeze crosses my face,
and I wake from my daze.
I see the sky outside my front door.
I feel the tile under my feet.
And I hear no one.