The Dead Nun

The Dead Nun short poem

Photo by heyexit

Teachers at my school, thought of me as dumb and a young silly fool.
My immature mind, thought my teachers were in their right mind.
This was not so, they let me down but they didn’t even know.
This young pupil right here, needed teachers’ guidance and an odd cheer.
They taught me a right lesson here,
their teachings was to be in fear.
I see myself as a young school girl, sat working away, at my old-fashioned wooden school desk.
My 8 whole years of my young life, sat drawing a picture for Sister Thereasa, who was no longer alive.
Headmistress, ‘Sister Monica’, came along, to inform and say.
We would raise to our feet, then shout out our greet, “good morning Sister Monica”, Headmistress Monica, signed for us, to sit back in our seats.
“Children” she would say, “we are going to the convent today, bring your pictures with you, for the respects you are going to pay”.

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