For Wynnis Johnson
Woe to mortal limits in death betold
when sealed before time fills a dateless urn,
a worldly spirit in a spirit world
for dust you are and to dust you return.
To do and unto my lost cause to teach -
did I not that nobility disgrace?
Yet still you sought to seek, to touch, to reach,
and to look upon the soul and its face.
Like a thresher to the chaff’s sounding flail
you were as the driven wind that winnowed -
an honoured place in your deathly still vale
waits you O’ teacher and last tributes owed.
Real was my discontent - my foolery
yet you never failed or abandoned me.
Written: February 1994
Wynnis Johnson 1939 ~ 1993 was my high
school math teacher. May she Rest In Peace.
Copyright © Keith D Trestrail | Year Posted 2022
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