If there were no good teachers
left, to keep the fires lit
in the eyes of the young,
who yearn to be filled
with the richest textures
a life can provide
worlds would collide
even more disastrously
than they do now
in these tumultuous times.
Without teachers living
on not enough sleep,
without teachers living
on needing more time,
without teachers living
on owed as much green
as the really fat cats
so full of greed,
the children would sprout
like prickly weeds -
the kind no one grows
to love and no one cleaves to.
Linda Joy Burke
Februay 2006 - All Rights Reserved By Author
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