Backbencher

No matter what the teacher asks

I am always up to my task

As I am a backbencher

I am always on a venture

Teachers have come and gone

Lying on the back benches I always yawn

The last bench is the best place to sleep

But when exams come I always weep

On my sweet bench, come the sweetest dreams

But they soon end when the teacher screams

“Stand up and leave the class”, the teacher shouts

Making an end to all my sleepy bouts

Looking at all this, sometimes I try to deem

Sitting in front I shall become the nation’s cream

But after all I love this sorrowful trench

As I write this poem, sitting on the last bench