Mrs Gabriel Poem by Maureen Pickford

I ached to be different aged fifteen
So learnt Russian at school. A class of three,
We relished the lessons, knew we would be
Entertained by teacher setting the scene.
She told of a past we couldn't believe.
As a member of aristocracy,
She'd fled revolution with family.
A carpet bag baby, smuggled unseen!
Tall and elegant, with a smoky voice,
She taught us her language between the tales
Of daily life in Russia's Tsarist past.
Mrs Gabriel our 'angel' of choice,
Guided us through exams, sure we'd not fail
And left us fine memories, made to last!