My teacher
wears workman’s shoes with heavy laces
that could
take him places no one else would dare to go,
over rocks
and streams
over
dangerous ice and snow.
His shirt
is a friendly one, faded from many washings.
I hope it
is his favorite, but I don’t know.
Sometimes
he wears a crisp, new shirt that means business
like a
sharpened pencil
or a clean,
white page.
But now, in
his faded shirt he seems to say
bring me
your poems.
I care what
you dreamed today.
Copyright ©
1986, Mimi Benson
Material
may be reprinted or distributed only with author permission.
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