An enigmatic stranger approached me
After my lecture yesterday evening;
He seemed somber, but I could clearly see
That he was intent upon conversing
“Few are your remaining hours,” said he
“Why squander them with those who do not read?”
That struck me as quite a rude inquiry
Of an apology I felt in need
I explained to the grim interloper
That while teaching does sometimes seem futile
It can also enable the teacher
To figure out what truly is worthwhile
“What have you gleaned, then?” he and his scythe asked--
“To question even you; with that, I’m tasked.”
About the Creator
D. J. Reddall
I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
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A Love Forboding
The chipped stone slope caused unbearable footing. I slid, skirting on my heels. I cast my shield, relinquishing my guard to stay upright. Left with my double-edge and a prayer to the maker, I skated toward my objective. The earthly stubble gave way to solid ground. I found myself restored, a trail of dust in my wake.
By James U. Rizzi5 days ago in Fiction
Comments (3)
As a teacher, give him the lesson of his lifetime! Or maybe in his case, lesson of his deathtime, lol. Loved your poem!
Brave of you to meet the reaper and come out on this side. You gave him a puzzle to ponder. Bravo.
So, is Death wise...or just a wise-ass? Death should fear teachers the most.