With my teacher

I was with my teacher

It was his ninety-third birthday

We talked and talked and talked

Reminisced the beautiful past

Recalled the good things of life

The Swiss fondue, the French wine

That day, the sleep ran away, from my teachers eyes

He did not feel the pain in his knees

He simply wanted to tell me stories

The stories of his childhood days

There was so much hope, I saw that day

In my teacher's eyes

He fondly remembered his close friend

From his Zurich days

The last time he met this friend

He was gripped with dementia

When my teacher was leaving,

His friend came up to the lift

To give him a piece of paper

As a parting gift

In one side was written my teacher's name

And on the other side, the name of the friend

With trembling hand

That day, I saw the tears

The tears of gratitude

Love, affection, and helplessness