My good friend, the literature teacher across the hall, confided in me yesterday that she felt like she was being watched and that the feeling would always occur during her last period class. She was scared that something was going to happen, but I didn’t believe her. I should have.
When I came in the next day, I discovered that she had been stabbed and murdered at her desk while she was grading. Looking around for any tell-tale signs of who it could have been, I found a poem written on the board. She always had a negative outlook regarding love, so this poem surprised me. I think she may have figured out who was watching her (who likely killed her) and hid it in the poem, but I’m at a loss.
Can you figure it out?
Love is like a chain, binding and strong,
it can be as uplifting as bird song,
akin to epics woven by a masterful bard,
and to bare yourself can be easy or hard,
but for those who care enough to try,
like a hare who leaps and dreams to fly,
a reward like no other can be found here,
one where you can't fire and hire another out of fear,
and in times so dire, fuels the strength of a hundred fires,
and in simple times of wine and dine, it never tires,
never expires, stays steadfast and strong like a great dane,
like how date trees remain after a hurricane,
and just as an iron gate holds fast,
with determination, love can be found to ever-last.