I cling to Mom, afraid of this room;
somehow not real, I sense doom.
A pretty lady with a smile sincere
takes my hand, says “Come, dear.”
She shows me how to hang my coat.
Oh goodness, where did mommy go?
Next, I'm sitting at a table for four;
her voice, I should, but do not adore.
Why am I so scared of this place?
Because, I see not a familiar face.
A first time for me, to be so alone,
I want my mommy to take me home.
The other kids seem filled with glee,
so I decide to participate more fully.
I show this teacher a picture I drew
of a lonely schoolhouse colored blue.
I ask what happened to my mommy,
missing her a lot and very unhappy.
I feel drawn to this teacher's smile
as I wake in my bedroom domocile.
© Copyright 2012 The Doorman (UN: jonmark at Writing.Com).
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