Sweet Old Days

When i was a baby
with a running nose and incomplete teeth
I went to school with biscuit and sweets
My teacher put me on a writing stool
I learn to say my A B C
I counted my fingers up to 1 2 3 
I counted those fingers carefully
Pass through terrible beating and abuse
Among the big boys and girls in my class
I could not cry but fight back 
According to mother's advice
And now, i am a professor
With a high degree.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2014

Poem

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