A, you were my first: 
I remember your strange angular 
red face looking up at me 
my fingers tracing along
on the wood block of you 
you stood for something, but what?

A, you flashcard into my memory: 
I remember a safe tee-pee to dwell in 
before I moved onto B, C or D
or tried to figure out the mystery of X
the odd nature of Q or the sinister Z
& never mind the craziness of K

A, you with your 3 sturdy lines:
you saved me, reminded me of home
when I was scared to open the door 
of my kindergarten classroom 
I saw you above the blackboard
standing there waiting for me
at the beginning of the alphabet

A, you showed me the 25 others:
but you went first, pointing the way
unafraid, so all of us followed pushing 
& shoving each other along the thin blue edged
line wading brave into the deepest paper quiet
drift of white knowing we’d make up stories 
for the rest of our lives under your spell