He lies in the sun
Like a sheep in its wool,
Time has trickled into a pool...

He's come here
Long after he was meant to
And everyone's gone,
Or he's too early
By a thousand years, or more.

He presses down on the prickly grass,
Writing, not bothering to cross out:
Time has trickled into a pool
And in that stillness so green and cool
There's only... the school

Bell clanging,
Clanging...

He drifts back to lessons
Like a ghost in a dream,
And glances back,
To prove he exists,
At his flattened shape in the grass.