The familiar ache in my heart
as I know I want to write
there's a poem inside me
waiting to come out
waiting to be printed on paper.

The scratching of my pen on paper
the ink forming letters, then words
not glancing at the clock
not wanting to stop
wishing I could freeze time

Glances from other people
pencils scratching their papers
rushing to get their work done
a feeling I know well
and can connect with now.

Bell, please don't ring
wait a little longer?
seconds tick by cruelly
counting down without mercy
they match the beat of my heart

People packing up stuff
anxious to leave
for once I am not with them
how can I want to leave?
Here I can write, I am free.