Lost in Translation

Author's Note: This is an edited version of my previous blog entry, A Jumbled Classroom.

I inhaled the musty odor of egg-white chalk,
smeared in scribbled streaks across the forest-green board.
I silently scrutinized the rectangular desk carved from a dead tree,
chaotically cluttered and stained a mahogany hue.

As the water cascades down Niagara Falls,
the desk flowed over in a muddle of junk.
A whirlwind of papers formed gigantic mountains,
which I believed no professor could ever climb through.

The detached attitude of the aged professor,
clearly revealed itself in his upkeep of the space.
I sensed that the spark in his spirit had long been forgotten,
tossed aside like a broken jack-in-the-box.

CRACK! A teapot toppled from his desk,
in an angry protest about its untidy surroundings.
The professor seemed alarmed at its sudden departure,
only then realizing the unworldly nature of the atmosphere he so drudgingly entered each day.