She found a Rainy Day With it, had her way Added to her play Then carefully tucked away Her treasured Rainy Day For another soon to play Skipping walked away Down the path made her way Wave goodbye to Rainy Day
The table is strewn with papers. Books are piled up at its edges. The floor is covered with loose papers, toppled piles of books, pencil shavings. The Student is no longer sitting in the chair. It is pushed away from the table.
The dejected pile of humanity sits on the floor. Tears flowing, while hands, black from ink, cover a downcast face.
Whispers. Half sobs.
“There is so much, so much I don’t know. So much left.”
Shoulders shake with emotions. Bottled, but beginning to seep out.
“How will I ever finish?”
The bottle cap gives way. True desperation is now flowing out, like from a shaken soda.
“You never will.” The teacher gently rebukes.
An open book is picked up from the floor and gently dusted off. The page corners soothed before it’s placed back on to the table.
“No one ever stops being a student. Not even when they become a teacher.”
Some papers are shuffled together and laid flat into a pile. A pencil is placed back with its counterparts in a small pot. A pen soon joins them all.
“I’m so overwhelmed.” Student’s voice sounds like sandpaper.
“Good. You have learned something wonderful. Let’s have some tea.”