To My Teacher Poem by DILIPBHASKER MATHRA

Sir. When I go for a walk
Through the groves in the morning
I often see you sitting
On the rock near the river
And looking thoughtfully towards
The horizon and at the snowy hills
Where the white swans sleep.
Eagerly-when I stop there awhile
To watch you, what you would be doing
I behold, your golden pen moving slowly
Through the white pages of a note book.
When I reach home and enter into my room
To finish my home work or read
The lesson taught by thee.
I look through the small window
And still you would be there
Like a shadow writing and writing.
On the chilly winter days
When the pale Sun sinks in the golden river bed
And the wind penetrates icy-cold every where
The old and the children in warm - clothes
Sit beside the fire and chat in blessed mood,
I wrap my body in an old blanket
And come out to watch the mist
Forming over the quick deep river,
Then I see you sitting on the same rock
Writing and writing for hours till dark
I know you are my teacher
And the people say you are a writer.
But I don’t know why you often
Sit on the river bank alone
And look towards the horizon,
Snowy land scape, deep blue sky
With bright face and dreamy eyes.