A Student's Torture

Nothing was to be heard
Between the four stone walls of the square prison cell
Light streamed through the window
Teasing the panic stricken occupants.

The heavy scratching of statements that
Would free the frazzled prisoners.
The light rustling of a
Whispered answer displayed clearly
In small black letters.

The loud tapping of bored pens
On tired paper bruised and abused.
The timer counted down the moments
To the freedom so desperately needed.

The buzzer sounded and roars of sweet
Freedom warmed the cold cell.
In no time at all the last of
Echoing footsteps disappeared into the world
And the cold cell will stay empty
'Till that chilly day of September first.