The plastic chairs creak beneath the classroom full of students. Yawns, scratching pencils, shuffling feet create the deep, white silence swallowing the scene, leaving only thirst in its wake. No sound but the empty words bouncing from the walls, falling on deaf ears like raindrops pounding a tin roof – less pleasing. In one dark corner a flipping page, nose buried in a book, hungry to learn, to know. The lecture continues its war drum pound, droning into silence.
Cross Country Gal 