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Tuesday, April 26, 2011

POEM 2. First Grade

Paper card clutched in eager hand
reading the words, that hot June final Friday
"she is a natural born leader" they did say
Read and birthed a "follower" of all rule
A good little girl in love with a loving school
Voracious to read those same "leader" words another day
Learned to scope out the teacher eye and learn his or her "game"
Before to the class or perhaps even to the teacher "it" even had a name
"Leader, leader, leader" in years two
and then on and on and on years tumbled through
Watching the eyes, the tilt of a head,
the smile of approval an addict led
From that original well-intentioned
neatly written "leader" writ on paper lined
a hyper-vigilant follower only seeming to lead - defined

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