To my eighth-grade English teacher, Dennis F. Geesey, 1938-1997
and to all teachers who plant seeds and often don’t get to see them bloom.

To Dennis Geesey, who saw beyond the classroom's frame,
Where words took flight, and dreams found their aim,
In the fertile minds of youth, you sowed the seed,
A belief in words, in dreams, in what could be freed.

You told us tales of prose and verse, encouraged us to write, to rehearse,
With each pen stroke, you nurtured our art, with your guidance, we found a start.

You saw in me a spark of light, a potential hidden from plain sight,
You said I could make the mundane sublime, turn alleys into boulevards, in my own time.

To teachers like you, who plant the seeds, In the hearts and minds of eager, young breeds,
Your legacy blooms in each word we pen, For you, Mr. Geesey, I dedicate this, then.

In your honor, we continue to write, To turn alleys into avenues of light,
For you believed in us, now let it be known, Your lessons and love in our hearts have grown.


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