Words

Teacher asked me to see her after school today,

and so,

playground-grimy and hesitant,

I clattered into the bulletin-boarded room

to where she stood,

blowing chalk dust from her hands.

She spoke first,

and her Words were welcoming and warm,

welling up, walking the room,

finally coming to stare me in the face.

As they looked into my eyes,

I sensed these Words had a will of their own.

They worked their way into my mind,

shaking me,

asking me,

commending and challenging me.

It was not until later when I was alone

in my own quiet,

with my own quiet thoughts,

that I realized the import of those impassioned

Words:

they were the invitation of one human being to

another

into the world of poetry.