Pencils scribble

Lockers slam, a metal roar, Then quiet falls, books hit the floor. No tests today, no homework sighs, Just whispering leaves and butterfly skies. Sunlight paints the desks with stripes, As whispers bloom like dandelion pipes. Chairs tilt back, imaginations take flight, Through emerald jungles, bathed in sun's pure light. Pencils scribble, tales unfurl, Of talking beasts and dragons in a whirl. Volcanoes erupt, castles rise so high, On paper dreams take wing and touch the sky. Chalkboard roars transform to waves, Crashing loud in coral caves. Pencils dive, dolphins in the blue, Hunting words, a hidden clue. Laughter echoes, vines of green, Connecting hearts, a joyful scene. No grades or stars, just stories spun, Weaving magic, one by one. This hour's jungle, wild and free, Where minds explore, eternally. A classroom bloom, vibrant and bright, Where lessons blossom, bathed in sun's pure light. So let the whispers turn to roars, In this jungle where imagination soars. For seventh grade's a wild, untamed land, Where dreams take root and stories expand.