Teacher

A secret locked, locking her in love’s sentence,
Her heart her prison, torturing is her shy silence,
Pressing on her with each beat to mark its presence.

A sweet student who fell for, one not of her kind,
In the margins of her worn note book and her mind,
A shy fantasy grows and gently turns her blind.

His back turned, ignorant of her sighing stare
Those words he writes, she wishes he would soon declare;
Noting and reciting works matching her despair.

Those tender words that pour from his lips she must drink
He’s quoting Byron, in her name? She can not think-
Now drunk, hung over from this dark poetic ink!

In envy she looks at that dark chalkboard,
Briefly holding the thriving thoughts in class explored,
That is soon washed from its hold, patient’s sweet reward!

Despite her youthful inappropriate passion,
Her heart pulses, beats under love’s cruel ambition
Pushing her shy dream filled thoughts into action.

The bell rings to clear the class and end one more day,
She waits in hope and horror - now all go away,
Leaving him and her amid anxiety’s stay.

She clings and she no longer quietly suffers,
All morals cast aside to bear out that man as hers
An anarchy where pupils can have, touch teachers.

His patients and surprise feeds her sweet delusion,
She sets up for that soft kiss: her dream’s intrusion,
Now a nightmare waits for its quick, lewd inclusion.

For that moment’s moment and the briefest second,
He straightens himself out as his rough cheeks crimsoned,
Blissfully tasting the thought her shy heart has beckoned.

His breath taken, this isn’t what he wants to be
The teacher parts away: “Don’t stand so close to me”
She still holds on: “I belong to you, don’t you see?”

A tear from her escapes, she runs in pain, angst and such
He tried to let her down with a feather’s soft touch
But all was too brutal, his handling too heavy, too much!

It kills her to think of him and her chastity.
His image sickens her with anxiety
She fears to remember him: the reality!

How can she control her true, real impulsive want!
Hope with its second chances, again creeps in to haunt,
With it an idea that becomes a sick taunt.

He quietly endures the proud role of a pretender,
She knows he is one touch away from surrender,
One silly thought of being caught in love’s wonder.

Listen how she whispers in her soft breath “I love him”
Exhausting herself, her lungs: how striking yet grim,
Love is beautiful because it’s a reckless whim……