Poetry

Teacher’s Delight

I come home from school

Lethargic like a lion at dreary dusk;

A smile beneath the façade of fatigue,

Creases of my collar dust in lime

Sweating to the sinews in time,

Gasp for a restful sigh-

A coffee in my old tea mug,

Perhaps a whisky in ice to mock

As I fall upon the cot

Into slumber I long not to rise;

A distant call of loyalty given,

Every breath to greatness of learning

In splendor to every strand of silver hair

I age with chalk to charter children’s dreams

Of discipline and decorum of manhood;

Every pace on the classroom floor trodden

Hurt like cobbler’s anvil beaten,

Molding crude innocence to intelligence;

My tongue seek some beverage to dull

The parched and torn path

That sung music in moral majesty,

In matters of the world few can play,

In my selfless giving rejoice every day;

A draft of change I make in little measure

The shades of life that shroud the treasure

In the ignorance of children in class

Give credence to the ageing heart

In a teacher I am today;

Can I slumber when another daylight

Waits for the future I must give delight!

 

                                                                                                                                                 ~Namgyal Tshering
                                                                                                                                                     Punakha, Bhutan

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