At a Rickety Table

On a rickety desk,my book is. The incy wincy spider spreads its webs, On my four-legged chair too. With dust covered,for lack of use. I'll be writing a test in days to come. I'll get back to my book, To remind me of things of old, New knowledge to be refreshed. My brightly lit lamp is on standby, The silvery crescent of the moon adds its own flavour. I'll tell Funke and Obi today isn't for play. Musa can crack his jokes all by himself. Page by page,I flip through, My eyes fully gazed at it,broadly spread. Scanning each word with deep sense of thoughts, Skimming in between lines. With this,I'm sure to excel.