Revision Poem by Cabaline xxx

Someone is tapping out a rhythm on their desk.
The entire room is swathed in boredom.
The door creaks and 15 faces look up,
hoping for some kind of excitement or escape,
a clown, a mad gun man, anything will do!
The tormenting, repetitive sound of pens,
lazily scrawling on paper, pollutes the place.
An occasional stop for the click of a calculator,
then the scribbling commences again.
Some people just doodle, letting their minds wander,
these people fly through the air,
they battle fierce dragons in space-
without ever leaving their seat.
Murmurs are sometimes heard, as puzzled people,
ask for help. I assist them, then away they scurry,
whispering their thanks.
The teacher sits at the computer, glasses in hand
-he is the barrier to our fun.