The quiet buzzing of chatter recedes,
Leaving only the creaking of risers
and the rustling of small children,
Unable to sit still.
The acoustics cause an echo
Of every sniffle and cough
Or adjustment of legs.
Perched lightly on flimsy plastic chair
Leaning forward, my eyes lock in quickly
On my sons eagerly bouncing form
Emulating nervous energy.
If I am a compass, he is north,
Always drawn to w...