O my beloved grade 10 Maths class how I love thee,
Thou treasure of numerical delights doth feast upon my eyes and give water unto them,
Veritably I say unto thee I cast no punishment in thy directions for thou hast proven my love,
But wait, what is this I see before me? What dagger upon my eyes and my mind that casts no proper favour?
For I am forced against my wishes to betray in ink the very love I doth bestow upon you,
For in your victory I cannot give you that symbol of love that tis known through all worlds,
Instead, cruel irony of fate, I must bestow upon you that most odious of signs,
That insect upon a dog's fur,
That doth eat a feline's flesh.
All over your scribe's work I have penned this horror to mine eyes bringing forth a message I would not wish to be conveyed.
So know this, that my love is thine for this good deed, that which you have treasured unto me,
And that in turning my day into night
Thou has turned my night into day.
3 comments:
With apologies to William of course...
hmmm methinks you procrastinate upon grading homework, that no student loves lol
Hmm... well you are right Lizzy that it is about homework. But in this poem the homework has been completed (after a long time) and I am commenting upon the irony of who what I am marking does, or does not reflect what I think of my students!
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