MY TEACHER
It was a morning
As casual as usual;
The same boring prayer,
The Principal pointing an error
In our dress or discipline.
After the news, speech and everything
He bowed his head low
And spoke something slow.
I couldn't believe my ears!
"Was it true?" probed my psyche.
I realized death was a mere veracity
Which each mortal must face,
After running his life-long race.
I remember her round face,
And her rebukes
That came in quick: pace,
Her affectionate hands that fondled us
Her curly hair, her polite manner.
This was not fair to her ...
I recall how she sincerely taught
How cheaters in the class were caught
How her words mingled
With expression
And lifted us to a new world
Of imagination;
We, students, gave our pocket money
To save this sweet lady
For at least a few more days.
But, death, when it comes,
Is final, you see,
My English teacher
Died of cancer last night
And my heart cried and cried
That day out of sorrow.
Yet the show must go on
No one can slow down
A new teacher will come tomorrow.
I still recall her last words to us,
"As I have loved you always
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