Member Rara Avis
I was cleaning out some directories tonight (what else does one do at four in the morning), and found a poem I had all but forgotten. Interestingly, I wrote this when I first "met" Nan on-line and discovered she was an English teacher. In reading it again, I'm a bit surprised she's still talking to me.
The English Teacher
I never knew her Christian name,
Or if she had a spouse.
She never said from whence she came,
Or took me to her house.
Her past was unknown history,
Of which I seldom thought,
Her life another mystery,
But one I never sought.
Her crinkled skin and graying hair,
And lashes thick as fur,
With hazel eyes and brazen glare,
Were all I saw of her.
Lips that pursed in furrowed moons,
When I abused a word,
Fingers curled in silent runes,
Were beacons always heard.
She pushed me farther than I knew,
Much farther than I craved,
With discipline and verb-tense rules,
Another mind she saved.
She taught me tense and precedence,
The ways of drank and drink,
But more, she taught me common sense,
And taught me how to think.
Her love of words, I have the same,
A legacy I found,
I'll never know her Christian name,
Her soul -- I know profound.