"March Air (Something There)"

I sit, leaned against a pine, franticly writing,
Romantic words spewing from by bic,
Covering the page,
My hand beginning to ache with overuse.
But when I look up,
All inspiration is suddenly lost.
Well, not lost, but changed.
There is something astonishing about what I see,
Superficial high schoolers being forced to write-
An unnatural silence hanging among us.

Everyone different, but for once, everyone the same,
Scattered in the grass.
Lying on the green, hunched over notebooks,
Head's darting, looking for anything that sparks emotion,
Some fiddling with pens,
Some simply staring,
But the same thoughts settled in every mind.

The cold, crisp March air encircles each,
Causing arms to cross and rub up and down,
Trying to provide warmth;
Warmth that the "trendy," barely-there clothes do not provide.
The wind comes in squrts
Picking up stray locks of hair,
Causing them to lift and dance,
Before they annoy, and get shoved behind the ears.

The moment is broken,
Shattered forever
(We all know silence never lasts)
When the sub forces everyone back to class.
A second age we were deep and intelligent,
Now we are being herder like cattle.

We scrawl final words and stand,
Our writings only half finished,
Not given the chance to be all they could.
We all return to our usual chatter,
No one being changed, not really,
No one except me.

I sat in the wintry air and watched.
Watched people I see everyday,
But this time, there was so meting there.

By A.S.