Day 13

Mr. J. Swan
His desk was on a platform and it jutted
Over us and his craggy brows jutted
over deep-set eyes.
Time had marked his face with creases of wisdom;
He had the air of a wizard or philosopher.
The lay of the land was as familiar to him
As the back of his hand
And he was stern, but good.
In my mind now, he rises above my other teachers
Whose faces I recall dimly, if at all.
If I still lived near Danum, I should like to ask him over
For a cuppa tea to discover
What "J." stands for and perhaps we could talk
For the first time as friends.
I do not think I would be disappointed.