The chalk dust in the room
Coats the inside of my nose and throat.
I would much rather be outside,
In the freshly rain-washed air,
Being kissed by a million tiny breezes.

Through the tall, skinny window,
I can see only one tall, skinny tree,
Holding the setting sun in its branches.
I hope the sun does not escape
Before I do. But maybe

My friend the tree, out of pity, will hold tightly
To the mellowing sun until I, no longer
Trapped in a room full of regurgitated
Knowledge, can enjoy it fully.
Probably not. Trees are selfish creatures.

It will most likely watch the sunset
From its great height, alone.

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...