In the back row, silent and serene,
A back bencher, a dreamer unseen.
Behind the desks, in shadows he dwells,
A world of his own, where inspiration swells.
Not in the spotlight, yet full of grace,
A quiet rebel in the learning space.
Dreams in his eyes, mischief in his grin,
In the back row, where the journey begins.
Not the front-runner, not in the lead,
Yet, there\'s something about his quiet creed.
In the back benches, where he finds his groove,
A maverick spirit, full of verve and groove.
Books may open, and lessons may unfold,
But in the back row, stories are untold.
A canvas of thoughts, a mind so free,
Back bencher blooms like a wildflower, you see.
Away from judgments, away from the stares,
He scribbles dreams on the margins of despair.
In the back row, where possibilities sprout,
A symphony of whispers, a rebel\'s shout.
So, here\'s to the back bencher, bold and bright,
Nurturing dreams in the classroom\'s twilight.
In the rearview of learning, he\'s steering the way,
A back bencher, making his mark, day by day.