Class Dismissed Poem by poddar kushal

He overstepped into
the field of sleep, freshly
harrowed and dewy still.

Late, he arose and thought
would take a rose to
the class. His math teacher

loved anything darker
than pink. Why does everything
look red? He asked standing

alone in the corridor
of swinging shades. Why do
they sleep here? He wondered.

Alone, he bore all those souls.
The news from the world beyond
traveled on some sleepy flies' legs