Every day for registration
I would walk in and turn right
to give him a ‘good morning’ smile.
He would reply with that soft voice he had,
dilate his eyes a little,
drawing a few lines on his forehead,
and would turn to his work.
I’d try my best in his lessons –
Perhaps that wasn’t good enough,
I’d ALWAYS greet him in the corridors –
well that doesn’t seem to count.
Maybe I should move to the front row seats –
but no, it would be too hard to breathe; I would twitch – maybe choke!
His exposure is too intense.
His rays absorb into my skin,
and make my blood vessels pump harder.
I burn easily.
Oh, his such a delight to look at…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the sun in the classroom? ? a teacher or a fellow student. wonderful word play