Saturday, July 1, 2017

Enjoy This Poem From Melody to Her King!


(For a king)
The memories of our first meeting are lost to me.
But I remember my first impression of you.
Not an image; nor are there words.
Only a feeling.
The teacher I saw was uplifted by something hidden,
something of towering nobility and grace.
You were more—much, much more—than a teacher.
I remember how that made me feel.
I remember wanting to learn from you as from no other.
Your first cause became mine.
Tell me of your fears, My Liege.
Tell me of your joys, your sorrows,
your days of hope and your nights of reflection.
For those are where my true lessons lie.
Not in the compass or the ruler,
nor scrawled on the blackboard or in rote formulas.
You weren't there for those.
Neither was I.
Teach me, Sire, and I will learn.

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