In the depth of the tutor’s
Heart, hoping for an opposition
Of sounds as he needs the
Opposing object for neutralization,
Pens, papers, whispers are sounding
The sounds make sense only to them,
The ringing sound a relief to them,
It now feels like an age of doom,
Walls are listening dearly,
As if they will answer the prayers
Of him. It’s all over and really
Memorable the silent place I have
Ever been, whispered by him