I can hear the sound at night,

the clasp when the handle shakes

as the door slams shut.

This is not an offensive sound,

simply the mechanics of the entry

to my classroom.

Tonight, while I lay in bed,

having usurped the beauty of summer’s heat,

my head is gradually shifting,

a knowing, necessary accentuate

response to the coming days

when they will enter

with needs, smiles, ideals, attitudes,

trust.

For there is no other place for their hearts

to be expanded, loved, and crucified.

In the classroom,

where their lives will intermix

with dozens of others,

all with the same goals in mind,

yet interrupted by the cycle of education.

I can hear the sound at night,

the clasp when the handle shakes

as the door slams shut.

I have to dream a little bit,

perhaps figure out a way,

to prop that door

wide open.