The Professor

Standing head and shoulders Above seated students Professing all he knows And much he doesn't Through squeaky chalk Bored with lessons learned Tattered black jacket collar Covered with white dust Like the dandruff Of faded knowledge Waiting for the last bell And cacophony of students Exiting for a night on the town So he can trudge through The gray slush home To empty house and Microwaved sirloin tv dinner Wishing he had a yipping poodle Instead of the silent company Of Jim Beam to while away his hours 26Feb14
Copyright © | Year Posted 2014

Poem

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