To be fair I was there without a care.
There to share and lay bare my love for the air.
It's cold I'm told, in the class rooms of old.
And the air smells rolled in mold.
Out here I see deer and can steer clear of my teacher's good cheer.
Out here, there is no fear that homework is near.
But I do miss my teacher, just a little bit.
She had grit, but could knit, and was nice when saying 'sit!'
I will miss her,