A Poem by S. F. Wright
Mrs. D teaches math.
She talks to me once in a while,
Always says hello
When we pass in the hallway.
She’s been teaching a long time.
One of those teachers
You had in school,
About whom you’d wonder,
“What’s her life like?”
Mrs. D was married,
But not anymore.
She has a daughter.
I sometimes see myself
In Mrs. D,
As I fast approach
Middle age.
For fun Mrs. D bowls.
Once she asked me
To join her.
I made up some excuse.