• Forty desks lines up in rows
    All empty except one
    She writes furiously, thinking
    'Maybe I'll get done'

    Listening to her music
    Hair falling out of place
    She doesn't notice, too busy writing
    With that seriousness on her face

    Gotta finish, gotta finish
    Or I'll ail that class for sure
    Mom will yell, I shall sigh
    "There goes my future"

    Hastily, she writes all down
    Hurrying to be done
    With homework she did not do at home
    Before the bell has rung