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Unity
I dreamed I stood in a studio
and watched two sculptors here.
The clay they used was a
young child's mind,
and they fashioned it with care.
One was a teacher.
The tools he used were books and
music and art.
One was a parent with a guiding
hand, and a gentle, loving heart.
That after day the teacher toiled,
with touch that was deft and sure.
While the parent labored by his side
and polished and smoothed it over.
And when at last their task was done,
they stood proud of
what they had wrought.
For things they had molded
into the child
could neither be sold or bought.
And each agreed he would have failed
if he had worked alone.
For behind the parent stood the
school, and behind the teacher,
the home.
~~~ Author Unknown~~~
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