Sara Stowell

Grey Eyes - Poem by Sara Stowell

It was a class of chaos and confusion
A world, wild and absurd,
Where the teacher was but a mere intrusion,
To the anarchy that rose and stirred.

A young girl sat in a corner dark,
And through the din of classes,
She made not one remark,
Behind tinted, concealing glasses.

She was the child that no one knew,
A silent shadow every day,
Amidst that restless, rowdy crew,
Who could only laugh and play.

Until there came a presentation,
A day she had to rise and speak.
Without complaint or hesitation,
Without resistance to retreat.

Erasers flew like wounded birds,
Students laughed and chattered,
They were like hyena herds
To the scent of death attracted.

The teacher, he was bleak and tired,
For the year was hard and long,
Faith and hope had all expired,
And he was not amid the strong.

Until silence moved, to his suprise,
From desk to desk to desk,
And, glasses gone, he saw her eyes,
As did all the rest.

Sweet water holding blue skies
After the rains of spring,
Were not as true as these eyes,
Which held and silenced everything.

Enchanting Caribbean seas,
Touching a warm and tender shore,
Were not as loving as these,
That could enchant forevermore.

Her commanding presence anything but askew,
Dark pupils did unfold,
Calm and deep and true,
They touched each student's soul.

She read a poem about the sky above
Drifting clouds, a willow tree,
Every boy fell in love,
And every girl held a special sanctity.

The teacher beheld this magic spell,
Like Daniel in the lion's den,
Who beheld a holy angel...
Said a prayer and carried on again.

© S.E.S

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, April 19, 2006

Poem Edited: Wednesday, May 17, 2006

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