I was blinded, taking a spill.
Maybe my vision would return.
Till then, I needed blindness skill.
I also needed help to learn.
A teacher came; her name was Flo.
As her student, I was no prize,
Repeating that she could not know
What it was like to have no eyes.
But, finally my pain gave way.
And Flo taught me the gift of grace.
My sight came back one summer day.
I turned and looked upon Flo's face.
She stared ahead with eyes so kind,
And I could see that Flo was blind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nice poem i like it esp the ending..although i think u could have been more detailed in the poem anyways a job welll done..check out my new poem called a poets love if u get time cheers