Okay, sonnet for homework.
I'm in the library ready to write.
My notebook thick pen poised to write on it.
My mind open, ready to get it right.
My view? The sky, and billowing white clouds,
Tips of tress languidly blowing in the breeze
I cherish the quiet, the lack of crowds
But the outdoor view is merely a tease.
Surrounded by stacks of books, here I sit.
Slight noises of people, paper and books.
A constant motor's hum and bit by bit
I write this poem, concerned with how it looks.
Does it make sense, read well, and does it scan?
Or instead, perhaps, some trash for the can?