My Musings on Life, Poetry and Short Stories

Immaculate in his Attire, he is clean like a whistle
Always smiling and his eyes got a twinkle
Ram, Rahim or Robert, we were all the same
He often said, what's there in a name
Be it Rain or shine, He was always there
You just come and learn to your heart's desire
He taught me English, Maths and Poetry
I met Keats, Shelly and Frost amidst Geometry
He would enact many a scenes from Shakespeare
Stunned and awed would be the atmosphere
Under his tutelege many of us grew to great heights
With him always standing there, school in his sight
When I heard about his sad demise this Fall
I thought, it was the "most unkindest cut of all".
I wrote this for writer's Lounge