My Old Clock
I love to teach
As well to get taught
Isn’t it so nice?
To be a master and taunt
A young innocent face
With whatever I learnt
In the fifty years
I did melt
Isn’t it
Even more beautiful
In a lotus pose to squat
Like an obedient pupil
On cold rocky floor
Before a ripened scholar
With a clean slate
And a piece of chalk
They mirroring
My ignorance dark
And solidified white resolve
To learn, learn and learn more
Till stops
Sans a warning
My old clock
poem by Sathya Narayana
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
