i is the lonely little letter
Staring at the blackboard

Point taken.

With dreamy eyes he sits
in the corner of his mind,
In a noisy classroom where he fits
with a teacher blind,
To which he thinks and lingers on
On which he keeps and scribbles on


i is the lonely little letter
Dead among the bored

Point proven.

With his little fantasy
of doing what he could
In a class, where he ought to be
doing what he should.
Not of the girl in his head,
But of the lines being said.

Hence i is the lonely little letter
still staring at the blackboard

So my point is taken again.

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