The student stares at the ticking clock,
His face long and drawn,
He cannot overcome this mental block,
His mind conjures up a result sheet torn.

He stares blankly at the approaching day,
Regretting his foolish deeds,
Knowing finally the price to pay,
Of being in this creed.

The test draws ever near,
The numbers still seem ever blur,
He cannot help but fear,
The final day when the results appear.

He thinks all is lost,
He believes that he will fail,
He knows that he has lost this toss,
And watches his hope set sail.

But at his table, he is suddenly awakened,
By a refreshing draught of cool air,
He looks up and sees,
Who else but his teacher there.

The teacher sits down beside him then,
And explains the numbers the way thats right,
He tries the questions and thats when,
He realises that he's seen the light.

After the test, its results time,
Its the results, and many sigh,
He takes one look at his marks,
And tears flow freely from his eyes.

He walks up to his teacher then and there,
Clutching his paper to his chest,
And thanks his teacher for being fair,
And knows that this teacher's best.

To my dearest Maths teacher, Mr. Azmi.
Mormegil | 11:39 PM |