Psychology assessment
the last of my three.
Ten minutes to go,
the last of my hour.

Here I sit, listening,
listening to the rustle of paper,
the scribbling of pens.

Some sit quietly waiting,
waiting for the test to end.
I sit here in a world,
a world that is mine.

The rustle of paper
becomes the wind.
The scribble of pens,
becomes the rustle of leaves

My desk is gone.
My class mates are trees.
The clock ticks loudly,
Although i could hardly hear it from my desk.

I walk forward.
The wind still blows.
The leaves still rustle.