Tuesday, August 9, 2011

THe class


Time dilates,

Mind frustrates.

Distractions become interesting,

Subject becomes distraction.

Graffiti’s on desk,

Acting to be brisk.

Eyes all opened,

Mind totally closed.

Mobiles on silent,

Imaginations vibrant.

A silent commotion,

An invisible opposition.

When the class gets over its heaven,

We feel 1947.

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