Fragments of Thought

In the classroom, the air thick with dust,

thoughts swirl like chalk in a solemn trust,

a piece crumbles, caught in anxious hands,

its chipped edge, a testament of quiet demands.

Each mark on the board, a whisper of doubt,

lessons forgotten, like secrets we shout,

a world wrapped in white, yet colors confined,

shades of uncertainty, so often maligned.

The bell’s distant ring calls me back to the fray,

the chalk slips away, as I long for the day

when thoughts flow like water, without any fight,

not just fragments that scatter, but visions of light.