Mr. McCaster, the mean, old Schoolmaster

This little old man so lifeless and lost
with wrinkles on wrinkles
etched and embossed
From dusk until dawn he sits slouched in a chair
fidgeting and fiddling betwixt his far away stare
Gone is the grammar he taught in his school with his headmastership stiffness of not acting a fool
A no nonsense lesson of life was his teaching as he commanded his classroom with such a practise of preaching
But the wisdom of his words have been stolen away and a stuttering silence is all he can say
Too many strokes has baffled his brain and left him befuddled and sadly insane
Who would have thought that this mighty man so tall would have wilted and withered, alas shrivelled and small
He has no recollection nor memories of his life
Was he married with children ?
Did he have a good wife?
But none of this matters as he passes his time lost in a laguish from reason nor rhyme
Mr, McCaster, the mean old schoolmaster
when one sat in his classroom one would want time to go faster
Yet he was a good teacher, just a man of his generation
An acumen of accomplishment
and a genius in conversation
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Comments
excellent poetry linda
Aww Thank you kindly Linda luv ❤️?❤️
Classic! Love it
Brilliant Jill...you've been busy!! Memory loss terrifies me but as someone said to me...you won't remembrr you've lost it...lol...hugs ?
Pml exactly it wont bother us ????❤️
Yes that is so very true our old uniform stiffness taught us respect luv ?❤️??