The Teacher Reflects - Poem by Hugh Mitchell
Fiddling in deep pockets for lost keys
my fingers smudged with grease
again I bind my rusty bike
with rusty chain and rusty lock -
the tedium of dropping gloves
defines my life, instead of love.
In future time when I shall wait
shiny hands folded where the old folks sit
can it be true that I shall crave
the comfort of a mislaid glove
the tangled keys, the fingers numb
the distant bell for lesson one?
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
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Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You