Poems

I dreamed I stood in a studio
And watched two sculptors there,
The clay they used was a young child's mind
And they fashioned it with care.
 
One was a teacher:
The tools she used were books and music and art;
One was a parent:
With a guiding hand and gentle loving heart.
 
And when at last their work was done,
They were proud of what they had wrought.
For the things they had worked into the child
Could never be sold or bought.
 
And each agreed they would have failed
If they had worked alone.
For behind the parent stood the school,
And behind the Teachers & Staff stood the home!
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