Dunce

In a dimly lit classroom of old,
A wooden stool stood, cold and bold,
Topped with a cap of paper‑white,
The mark of a boy deemed “dunce” outright.

His cheeks flushed pink as sunset’s glow,
While chalk‑dust whispered, soft and slow,
“Try again, lad, let curiosity seize—
Mistakes are merely stepping‑stones, not a disease.”

The cap, though mocking, became a crown,
For every stumble turned him round,
To question, wonder, dare to try,
Turning ridicule into a quiet sky.

So let the dunce cap sit aside,
A reminder that pride cannot hide
The brave heart that learns from fall—
For wisdom often wears the humblest shawl.