Old Alphabets Haunt My Dreams

old alphabets haunt my dreams
the ones in dark green
construction paper red

the things they said to us
when we were little
in capital letters and very loud

inside our heads,

the important things we thought,
on these we counted 1.2.3; the
glories that would be when we

reached the end of the times table perfectly;
the last ones standing in the Spelling Bee
with perfect penmanship and gold stars

by our names; where have the clouds gone,
the ones that we loved then, when
singing about the rain

in someone else's folksong;
with a cherry bright refrain
and you, reciting in your sleep

the things you'll want to keep
much later, from fading away
and all the things we used to play.

mary angela douglas 19 april 2016