The Lesson Poem by James McLain

Can even my one lesson,
Taught by you be different again.
Over and over a green board of white chalk.
Words once small,
even again as we speak ever too me,
seem so large.
Head stones I glimpse,
like the stumps of old teeth.
I seek the same thing out, even now as a child.
The date on the stone that very first date,
that I so young, sought out.
when were they born, how long did they stay,
have they come back to teach.
What did they say.
and here now again, am I beyond reach
and now once again they are gone.

m.a.