Sparkatale

One day in class, my teacher had told me this,

“If you keep your doors closed, a lot you will miss.”
At first I thought she was mad, maybe sad because
if my doors were always open that would leave my family
open to burglars that might steal my recipe for special sauce.
She laughed at me and told me I was too literal.
Such is my wise teacher.

What my teacher said made no sense at all.
As I was thinking about this, how it made no sense,
I didn’t realize I lost my footing and was about to fall,
Down the stairs and right on top of my teacher.
She glared at me, helped me up and turned into a preacher.
After vowing to be a more careful student, she smiled at me.
Such is my caring teacher.

I straightened myself up, fixed my clothes and went on,
Ideas of thinking and wonderment over her words gone
When I saw that very same teacher slumping into a chair.
Her arms dropped books to untangle her messy, black hair.
I asked her where she was going and she said to class.
I knew from one look into her black eyes hidden beneath glass.
Such is my tired teacher.

I picked up the wayward books and sat beside her.
As she spoke, I picked up on her words and each individual slur.
I nodded and replied, noticing how her eyes twitched.
Maybe she took a cup of coffee too many? Maybe too little?
I hear it in her voice, how her breathe is suddenly hitched.
And then it hit me like cold water,
Such is my wonderful, coffee-loving teacher.

Ofcourse! How could I have missed it?
Now that I have given time to look at other things,
I notice more and more, bit by bit.
If you keep your doors closed and hide yourself,
You won’t see much of everyone else.
I saw my teacher and such a great one she is.