By Diana Goh

The news of her to-be departure
Shocked the town.
Tears coalesced and heads hung low.
With hands fervently clasped, praying this ain’t true,
We await her announcement; she may be gone for good.

When we first met, it was hard to understand
Her foreign accent in a familiar language.
Seasons changed, we came to accept.
Every Friday we’d gather our tools,
Raring to decipher a corpse of verses.

“Excellent! I see lots of potential in you!” she’d exclaim
To the abecedarians she managed to tame.
Her voice, like a remedy to cure our lost (literary) souls.
Despite the pain, we are better equipped to
Investigate the next body, cause of death unknown.

These words, she may never know.
Gone, like the wind, but
Embedded in our souls.
So dear to us, and never


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