What's the time?

The Deep blue sky
A wall just a few bricks shy
A lonesome math class
The delicate green grass
A sparse wide field
Integration concealed
An out of place brick
A writer critic
A calculus affair
Some warm sun and the air
They are calling me
Like some piping hot mountain tea
On the notebook – A ink spill
The only thing between us – A grill
I put my hands through the hole
A theorem by Rolle
A land of surprises, locked
A tower in the distance, clocked
Regret written all over my face
And the bell rings, finishing this drowsy phase.