Monday, March 23, 2015

Honour

Morning.
Class time.
Routine.
Book.
Bag.
Walk.
Classroom.
Door.
Open.




And then the sun gets loose
from it's chains
and these kids
these kids
they don't even know what I'm saying
I don't even know what their saying
but we have our ways

Those smiles
those grins
the way the girls beam
and the boys squirm

Like they don't know 
what's happening
but I'll be damned if they aren't 
really excited about it

It may only be
"English class"
but it's taught by that strange-looking
foreigner with the "yellow hair"
and that seems to be enough

And it shows in their faces
and the way the room
warms up to the joy

It's a small thing
and it's a big thing
at the same time.

What an honour to feel that kind of glow.




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