A friend of mine wants to take his daughter to a Montessori school in Riverside,
Where the Director is my old mathematician teacher.
(A daughter of a Supreme court Judge)
She acts as she doesn't recognize me
And I heard that she entirely forgotten our mother tongue too
As she won't touch the spicy food now.
Never mind Ms.Paranola but still I remember the Trigonometry lessons you taught us enthusiastically;
Hyperbola: ' The curve produced by a cut made through a cone at an angle with the base greater than that of the side of the cone.'
Dear Ms.Paranola,
I am so sorry but I have to mention this to you that I am a Parabola now.
(A curve like that path of an object that's thrown into the air and falls back to Earth.)
*Dedication to Ms.Luisa.Moldonado
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Superb last line. Excellent word portrait of the math teacher. You are in good poetry voice in any language. Always, Sandra