LAST CYCLE © 2008
The master calls his pupils,
In a mother hen manner,
With patience and a few smiles,
He lines them all up.
Each jump is guided,
Preventing the chick from straying,
Delimiting the reserved space,
With a firm hand and a gentle gaze.
The rules are stated with precision,
Reason is taught with care,
Like a judge in full lesson,
From a young age, they are guided.
The smallest creatures grow,
Creative, dreaming actively,
On the side where strengths flourish,
Far from the negative shadow.