About the oval table, students sit
Bent over their examination books
Inscribing answers that are meet and fit
With urgent concentration in their looks.
The sense of ticking time is palpable.
So many questions yet to be addressed
And time, which started out as plentiful
Their urgent efforts will now soon arrest.
This is a ritual of academe,
A nightmare haunting grads in after years
Who suffer from an oft-recurring dream
Of having over-slept—the worst of fears.
Yet here they are, about to finish up
As I march toward my ending rhyme—hup, hup!