Which ones will fade

My students sometimes fade from existance

My mind a swirling black hole

And I assume that the same occurs to them

Another teacher, years later, unremembered, unremarked.

But each student I teach touches me

In ways I cannot explain

The quiet of the McA’s

The future artisitc director, the one who was a parent – too soon.

I wonder which ones will fade, held in my black hole – for just awhile.

It touches me to be remembered,

To be greeted at the shops

Yet for me the names blur meaninglessly

Faces, like uniforms, the same.

I remember the one who tried so hard, yet always got it wrong,

The one who’s father gave her up, the one who’s Mum walked out.

I remember the one who always smiled and always made my day,

The one who started out hating maths, then loving it, cycling back to hate.

I remember the one who quit school without a word,

The anxious girl who hated her life so much, she ran away.

I remember being told I suited a child because I did not fuss

And the child who used to love the fuss because at home they were an item of furniture.

Yet I never know which ones will fade and which will stay the same.

Who have I forgotten, what talents and strengths did they have?

I spend this night wondering, pondering and wishing I had written it down.

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