The Lesson

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.