(Margarette Nicholson, 1909–85)
Every time I tell the time
Or work out ten times two,
I open up a precious gift
Bequeathed to me by you.
You gave me names and numbers.
You taught me how to spell.
You told me how to hold a pen
And how to write as well.
You showed me how to read aloud
From books of red and blue.
You filled my head with goats and trolls
And tinderboxes too.
You planted seeds inside me
But did not see them grow.
A bell rings at the end of school
We pack our bags and go.
These words I scrawl on paper,
This shape upon my tongue,
Is made from things you gave to me
Way back when I was young.
Steve Turner