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a stretching yawning bumbling fool
up with the morning sun
he struggles to focus and gather whats needed
for his day has just begun
enough time to finish off a hot meal
and wipe away eye drool
he grabs his bag double checks his books
then this lad is off to school
he did ok in science and math
history was some what of a mystery
yet he some how managed a c+
in that the one true source of him misery
the English language, the nouns pronouns proverbs
it all made him sick
the teacher just looked at him her only advice
maybe you should just quit
before disappointment before even trying
and he almost listened that moment of denying
dieing
inside for if she was right
that would mean the end of his dream
she consoled him by adding your quite good in math
but that hurt even more it would seem
years past no more class for our lad his math skills pay bills hes nearly reached the age of 30
he often thinks of the low class teacher
who onces deemed him unworthy
and he still scripts from time to time
he so loves his pen and pad
he visions his mission a success in his eyes
a writer i am proclaims this lad
