A poem written when i was in FYBA

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Came across an old poem of mine in my FYBA book... I had skill.... and i hated to sit in a classroom... Read on...

The empty whir of a fan, 

In an emptier classroom,

28 dreaming eyes 

In a literary tomb;

The notebook flips a page, 

Trying to make me read

Like a bird in a cage

repeating a dead creed

I see trees waving at me,

And the wind rushing by,

But all i can do is see

and maybe, let out a sigh.....