The room is silent,

but for the endless scratch,

Of pens and pencils on paper,

Words flowing from minds,

Through the hands,

Out the pen,

Traces of ink in gleaming rivers,

The endless scratching,

The pencils are sharpened,

The rubbers lie ready,

Brows furrowed in concentration,

Minds working on overdrive,

The endless scratch,

Fills the room,

Like a swarm of bees,

He sits,

The guardian,

Watching over his students,

The only sounds,

Minds working,

Hearts beating,

And the scratch,

The endless scratch of paper and pen.