Mr Morgan

Portrait of an old teacher

Mr Morgan.

Braces and corduroy,
white shirts bulging at the buttons
as he laughed through copper wire beard.
He opened a new world to me;
fantasies, wonderlands,
rip-roar belly laughing stuff
whose authors were a mystery to me.
I would sit close
legs crossed, arms resting in my lap,
listening
attentively to every animated word.
He was the wardrobe as I entered Narnia,
An enchanter whose voice warmed me.

Inside an ember flared into life,
a fire was stoked
as the first sizzle and crackle of life.

Later he wrote books
And I envied him more.