By Tiffany Du

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock

the clock goes ticking away.

The room shifts into a wonderland

of inanimate objects alive.

Papers, pencils and pens

talk as they would in a dream.

Blank pages fill themselves with

scribbles, sketches and scumbles.

Then I wake up from my daydream,

and gawk over my progress.

I still have time,

I tell myself

then I read my comics.

Page two, 10, 12

they pass by like a rocket.

A few more minutes

then I’ll stop,

that’s what they all say.

I pick up my pencil

and twirl it a few times,

it turns into a propeller

then hits the ground in moments.

A sigh escapes from my mouth,

my hand too lazy to move

until it grips a new pen

and touches the tip to the paper.

Name

Date

Class

Period

Space skipped

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…and I’ll finish the rest of this poem later.