Day after day

lecture after lecture

is it me or is it the teacher?

I cannot help but picture

in class her power, her passion, almost as if she is a preacher

is it her voice, her age, her virtue 

I do not know , could this be true?

What is it inside me that has now awaken

for my heart, my teacher has now taken

 I dream of her but every night

I wish for her with all my might 

I can no longer keep my grip

I must disclose to my beloved

for She has no idea of my trip

but my words are ones that shall not be spoken

they are words that shall not be said to a teacher

what is left of my afflicted heart I have no choice but to set arson

her voice, her grace, her gentility I am left but without a token

because these are words that shall not be said to a teacher

for I now know I cannot have such a beautiful creature