Afternoon Class

Afternoon class.

Drowsiness hangs heavy in the air, and
The fan tries to do justice to its purpose.
It swings it arms like a mad man.

Below the students linger,
With heads supported with pillar-arms.
They try to pay heed to what I say.

I send two of them to wash away their sleep,
A joke brings back their consciousness,
I continue my lesson but they receive,
Every word like a lullaby
Trying not to droop like rich red poppies,
They hang on.
Their eyes gain weight,
Drawing all the energy from their body,
They try to hold it open,
But with hopelessness, strive.
I pity them and myself, so
I call it a day.

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