How You Taught Life Instead of Literature
It would be strange to say you changed me
Weird to say I’m wise.
Odd to speak at all, since seat 27 row five,
Was occupied by me, small, quiet me.
Tangled and mixed up in a sea,
Of awkward teenagers.
You said seize the day
To break routine, to change;
And there I was trying to arrange and rearrange
My life. And I remember how I cried
Just a little, when you worried that one of us had died,
Since Friday’s news was misleading.
I’ve never wanted a spotlight
And never wanted to stand out
But you taught to embrace life, to shout,
To sing, to dance, to love, to challenge
And I felt a sense of balance,
For the very first time.
But you’re the teacher, and you’ll never know.
And I’m just a kid. Forever with a blank stare
Hiding in my heart the changes, advice, and the rare
Sense of happiness, comfort, and joy you brought
With all the life and literature you taught.
And I'm sorry I never raised my hand.