Teacher, Teacher


She said, "Write a poem, Not too short, not too long.That dictates a theme to A reader Like: "how to get along"  Well, I said, "Should I write about times,of hardships,and squish all of realityinto these lines?"  But no, she said,"Melodious undertoneTo pretend life's beautifulEven when it's notis the point of a poem."  Teacher, teacher  Wanted me to lift the readerOut of the muckTo see the goodTo see that they're in luck  They haven't died- Yet  And they can bear it-But,   No, she did not want me To write the truthShe wanted meTo writeWhat she wanted to see  In a flowing, gentle as a river,Soft as a floating feather,Lovely as a blue-eyed baby-Born in May-Smooth as a pebble formed From a rock in the bay  She wanted the cliches love,           happiness,                             joy,                                         and home  In a Poem


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