Drops of time

Sun drops trail ink drops
Across the class floor
As agonisingly slow
As garden snails
Marking time
For the final bell,
Before it rings
How many times
Have I pattered
Down our street
Flung down the schoolbag
Kicked off the shoes
Raced out to play!
How many times
Have I not wanted
The sun drops to move
Willing to stay put
And listen for hours
To date-filled chronicles
Of distant, war-thirsty kings,
Or taken the circuitous route
Braving streets with
Lecherous eyes
Dreading to go home
To a demented face
Sword-sharp tongue
And whiplash hands!