My feet feel like they’ve walked 1000 miles
In shoes made of inch thick lead.
The load they feel they’ve carried
Is often in my head.
I am so often envious
Of people who can let things fly
It seems to me that unlike some others
I carry loads that I cannot let die.
I worry about some stupid things
Things I cannot control
I toss and turn and squirm
Thoughts tunnelling in to brain like a mole.
I worry too much about my students
And how they fare at night
The empty of love table
Of all the bad things that might
I sometimes give to much of me
To those who do not care
And some I wish I could take home
And parent them, I wish I dared.
The tales that could be told
Of students struggling to find
A life that they can live
A life that is just a little kind.
These stories I do carry
And it is not good for me
I try to let the stories go
But they will not leave me be.