Little Joshua, striving steadily
through words and numbers,
page after page, he doggedly proceeds;
sometimes hoarsely calling words
in his corner with furrowed brow.
Hešll look at you with his cat eyes
and teasing smile'grinning like a monkey.
You come to help him, but can merely say
lean on my arm, hear a voice,
feel a hand of support when the
words and numbers overflow your brain.
The quick tears spurt, the stamping foot,
the pencil hurled. Over quickly.
The work, the smile again.
A new word, a new idea he snatches at.
Child to whom I gave my message;
I gave my cool balms, my pulsing palm;
I fashioned a frame to build upon,
a scaffolding for you to mount.
Good-bye, smart, bright-eyed kid, good luck.
May you never stop climbing.
