The clock ticks

I sit and stare, the clock ticks slow,

My mind drifts where I’d rather go.

The pencil waits, the page is white,

I’d trade it for games all night.

Equations dance, they mock my brain,

The grammar rules all sound insane.

I sigh, I fiddle, try once more,

My notes now scrambled even more

But when it’s done, the works complete,

That victory feels kinda sweet.

So next time tasks begin to pile,

I’ll face them maybe just in time

Prokop Tamás   X. R