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Part Of Me

 

If you listen, I'll tell you how it began,

My knowing that Poetry was part of me,

What made it so.

 

A classroom full of children,

a huge, old desk and chair, and we

that sat, you know

in silence, spellbound. An old Teacher

with War-scarred fledgelings at her knee...

....so long ago...

A clock ticks in the silence,

The old Teacher looks over her glasses at me

and seems to know

how I feel when she reads the poems.

She knows that I feel the same as she...

....so long ago.

The room becomes my Imagination

full of priceless treasures; a Princess I can be

if I wish it so.

Such poems of magic and wonder

throw their Spell around us tighter, and we

sit wide-eyed, you know.

Such deeds and dreams we

never had known....but I always see

whenever I go

to take up my pen, then start to think back

to my Teacher, her poems, and how, to me,

she was beautiful, you know.

 

by

Shirley Frances Winskill 1992