This poem is dedicated to Denise Branch, Indian Lake Teacher and My Wife
MY WIFE IS A TEACHER
Laminated letters and bears, Oh My
Stuck to cinder block with masking tape
The wonder of a caterpillar becoming a butterfly
Riveted to a seven-year-old's heart for all time
My Wife is a Teacher
You know they know everything, these teachers do
They have a desk and a chair
But they are seldom used
They are like bees
Going from flower to flower
Pouring the stuff of life into these second grade sponges
My wife is a teacher
She would never admit to me
That she loves these freckled faces as much as her own children
She doesn't have to
Over 700 bottle rockets have left her launch pad through the years
and they light up the sky like a thousand suns
They will burn brightly and their light will touch many
Partly, because they were given the right stuff by a teacher
That is how most people know me, as the husband of their child's teacher
And I couldn't be happier
My wife is a teacher
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