Picture, frame, like face to name,
we met in my prison of shame;
but you an English teacher, nun by trade,
potential, your favorite grade.
And through kindness in heart, and helping hands,
like an architect, drew up new plans;
and with no debt, I take the next step.
There in my successes, and too when I fall,
a lunch date made, in a phone call.
Bistro Dansk, I send my thanks,
over a bowl of hot chicken soup,
and home-made bread,
the questions I have asked, said.
What do you think Sister Carol?
And in her reply, words I won’t forget,
“Since we are friends now, call me Carol.”
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