<p align="center"><strong><span style="color: #993300">Two Sculptors</span></strong><strong>
</strong>
<span style="color: #993300">I dreamed I saw a studio
And watched two sculptors there.
The clay they used; a child’s mind -
they fashioned it with care.</span>

</p><p style="text-align: center" align="center"><span style="color: #993300">One was a teacher using tools
Of books, music, and art.
The other; a parent with guiding hands,
And gentle, loving heart.</span>

</p><p style="text-align: center" align="center"><span style="color: #993300">Day after day, the teacher toiled
With a touch that was careful and sure.
While the parents worked patiently by her side
to polish and smooth the work o'er.</span>

</p><p style="text-align: center" align="center"><span style="color: #993300">And when at last their task was done
They were proud of what they had wrought.
For the things they had molded into the child
Could neither be sold nor bought.</span>

</p><p style="text-align: center" align="center"><span style="color: #993300">And each agreed that they would have failed
If either had worked alone.
For behind the parent stood the school
And behind the teacher, the home. </span>
</p><p style="text-align: center" align="center"><span style="color: #993300">--Anonymous</span></p>