Mr Teacher standing tall
fearsome guardian of pens.
You tower above me
mere parent of Liberty.
Mr Teacher by the door
blessed with a generous gift.
Not an apple it's true but
she's precious with eyes of blue.
Mr Teacher so out of reach,
can you see? She gazes up
at your hardened face.
Should I leave her in this place?
Mr Teacher, key in hand
will you help her mind expand?
Or will she become an absentee
my small daughter, my Liberty.
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