Upon my head, a pointed crown,
A symbol of the mind’s misstep.
I sit, while whispers wander ‘round,
A mark my teachers dare not let slip.
The world may laugh, the scholars frown,
But still I ponder, still I sit,
While letters dance and numbers trip,
Beneath this cap of folly.
The tassel swings, a mocking sound,
A tiny flag of shame displayed.
Yet in my thoughts, new truths are found,
By curiosity not delayed.
Though peers may scoff and jeers abound,
I learn in ways no scorn can clip,
My mind explores beyond the script,
Beneath this cap of folly.
And when the day is finally done,
The pointed hat removed at last,
I see the setting of the sun,
And knowledge gleaned from trials past.
Though laughter came from everyone,
The lessons linger, wisdom’s sip,
Unseen beneath the scholar’s tip,
Beneath this cap of folly.