Sweet little boy with skin of tan
I believe he wants to learn, and can,
A lovely child with an eager mind
He comes to me in the summertime.

With his glasses on and a friendly grin
Soon I become so fond of him,
The hours we spend day after day
Unintended, sometimes turn to play.

The smitten tutor sits with the boy of eight
Trying to help him make third grade,
Teacher "didn't want to keep him back,"
My job - to guide him along the track.

The clock, the hour and minute hands
He tries so hard to understand,
The calendar--he learns it right away
Locates Martin Luther King's birthday.

Serious face ponders, holds pencil so tense,
As he counts by ones and fives and tens.
Like Martin of old, he loves reading so well
And in little boy words a story he tells.

The weeks speed by, he found it fun,
Tutor and pupil? Much more we've become.
"Will we be friends always?" he writes in a note
"Yes, always," I say, with a lump in my throat.

I did not know I'd find such joy
The day I met that brown-skinned boy,
How could I teach this handsome lad?
I tried, and what a summertime I had!