Cliché, I know,

but I'm writing it anyway.

There I am, sitting in the classroom,

looking out the window.

It's Autumn in full fledge,

and you know what I see:

maroon and golden leaves

on tall-standing trees, blowing in the wind.

And you know how it goes:

it's hard to reconvene your mind

to the classroom inside.

But I try, and do,

and learn about DIC

and coronary artery disease.

And then, after class,

I forget it all,

remembering only the cliché scene

outside the window,

and write this poem.