The Desk, for Jeremy by Michael Burch
There is a child I used to know
who sat, perhaps, at this same desk
where you sit now, and made a mess
of things sometimes. I wonder how
he learned at all ...
He saw T-Rexes down the hall
and dreamed of trains and cars and wrecks.
He dribbled phantom basketballs,
shot spitwads at his schoolmatesâ€™ necks.
He played with pasty Elmerâ€™s glue
(and sometimes got the glue on you!).
He earned the nicknameâ€“â€œteacherâ€™s PEST.â€
His mother had to come to school
because he broke the golden rule.
He dreaded each and every test.
But something happened in the fallâ€“
he grew up big and straight and tall,
and now his desk is far too small;
so you can have it.
One thing, thoughâ€“
one swirling autumn, one bright snow,
one gooey tube of Elmerâ€™s glue ...
and youâ€™ll outgrow this old desk, too.
Originally published by TALESetc