As my squinting, heavy eyelids,
Prepare for a crash landing,
I notice,
Just about,
A brave teacher,
With hands crossed neatly behind his back,
Slowly strut off,
Brushing off the skilfully carved edge of my desk,
Faintly in the distance,
I hear his monotonous voice droning on,
And on,
Suddenly,
My elbow slips and a sharp bump on the ear,
Awakens me with a bolt,
It was then, I realised Magellan was a sailor.