A drop that slowly trickles down my face
All blurry, fuzzy, nothing crystal clear
I’m bolt upright but cannot keep pace
My teacher calls on me. I sit in fear
I wish so badly I could sit and learn
But I am hindered by my lack of sight
I can add! When will it be my turn?
I gather all my strength and my might
"I cannot see," I sob at my exam
So useless and so dumb, misunderstood
Will it change? I have done all I can
Now calm yourself child, you will do good
Glasses become the window to the soul
Thank you G-d. Now I feel at ease and whole
This poem was a lo of fun to analyze and workshop in class. I agree with what was said in terms of cleaning up certain lines to make them flow better with meter and stresses.
ReplyDeleteI appreciate the line "Glasses become the window to the soul" - to me, it sounds like you are using this overdone metaphor to explain that the glasses became your eyes. I don't think its stale, I think it works.