The Fine Morning

As I sit in class

On this fine morning,

I wonder whether

My being here

Is a huge blunder

The seat feels like

An unbreakable tether,

And the mind starts to fog

The clear blue sky,

The endless trees

Beckon to me

And whisper my name

I look back longingly at the outside

For my concentration

Has long since dried.

The symbols on the board

Seem increasingly exotic

And the words floating

Through the air seem to possess

A hazy coating

The point of boredom has long since left

And the syllables striking my ear

Seem less and less deft

So it is here

That my thoughts now drift,

So easily they shift

To activities less mundane

And much more dear...