Unity

I dreamed I stood in a studio

And watched two sculptures there.

The clay they used was a young child’s mind

And they fashioned it with care.

One was a teacher

The tools he/she used were books, music and art.

The other, a parent

Worked with a guiding band, and a gentle, loving heart

Day after day, the teacher toiled

With touch that was careful, deft and sure.

While the parent labored by his side

Arid polished arid smoothed it o’er.

And when at last, their task was done,

They were proud of what they bad wrought

For the things they had molded into the child

Could never be sold nor bought

And each agreed they would have failed

If each had worked alone.

For behind the parent stood the school

And behind the teacher, the home.