The Classroom
The teacher was desperate it seemed
To prove those theories interesting.
As if his life depended upon it.
And he frantically moved his hands
Like a fly caught in a spider web
Squirming to escape and survive.
And yet among the silent class
Of boys, two scores and a ten,
Or lifeless dolls who danced to strings,
Sat a boy with shiny eyes
With paint in his thoughts
And a girl in his dreams.
"...Every thing has a measure
And its d measure that we treasure"
Said the teacher with some pleasure
And beamed a broad smile
As if it was a carnival day
And the sun lit up the pretty may.
"What has no measure has no meaning", he clarified
The boy sighed.
For the man didn't know of love
Which stopwatches fail to measure.
For, the boy knew it was a treasure
Which always outweighed a balance
It was vaster than the star lit skies
Too big for a scale to trace it
Too big for the man's bald head at least
He thought.
And sighed.
Bells ring and a new teacher comes in,
With grey hair and same cold looks.
Books change but the gloom remains;
As if winter had gone
And the snow stayed back.
"What is a flower?", the botany teacher asks,
And a dozen hands throw up in an instant
As if it was raining chocolates and candies
And all they could pick up
Was all theirs.
"A flower is a modified leaf" he babbled
With a smile like he was speaking in tongue.
And the boy of spring closed his eyes
And he could see a scarlet rose
A garden of petals, blue and violet,
A joyous field of flowers of gold,
And happy wings of butterflies,
Striped with blue and speckled with green,
A laughing breeze and singing birds,
And among them stood the girl he missed.
To prove those theories interesting.
As if his life depended upon it.
And he frantically moved his hands
Like a fly caught in a spider web
Squirming to escape and survive.
And yet among the silent class
Of boys, two scores and a ten,
Or lifeless dolls who danced to strings,
Sat a boy with shiny eyes
With paint in his thoughts
And a girl in his dreams.
"...Every thing has a measure
And its d measure that we treasure"
Said the teacher with some pleasure
And beamed a broad smile
As if it was a carnival day
And the sun lit up the pretty may.
"What has no measure has no meaning", he clarified
The boy sighed.
For the man didn't know of love
Which stopwatches fail to measure.
For, the boy knew it was a treasure
Which always outweighed a balance
It was vaster than the star lit skies
Too big for a scale to trace it
Too big for the man's bald head at least
He thought.
And sighed.
Bells ring and a new teacher comes in,
With grey hair and same cold looks.
Books change but the gloom remains;
As if winter had gone
And the snow stayed back.
"What is a flower?", the botany teacher asks,
And a dozen hands throw up in an instant
As if it was raining chocolates and candies
And all they could pick up
Was all theirs.
"A flower is a modified leaf" he babbled
With a smile like he was speaking in tongue.
And the boy of spring closed his eyes
And he could see a scarlet rose
A garden of petals, blue and violet,
A joyous field of flowers of gold,
And happy wings of butterflies,
Striped with blue and speckled with green,
A laughing breeze and singing birds,
And among them stood the girl he missed.
