I miss the days

when Dr. Seuss was the only poet

that I needed to know.

I miss the days

when poetry was poetry because

it had a rhyme scheme

that we would praise.

“The cat wore a hat.”

“Green eggs and ham, Sam I am.”

“One fish. Two fish. Red fish. Blue fish.”

What a time.

Give a child a rhyme and

some alliteration.

They will think the world of poetry.

“David Donald Doo

dreamed

a dozen doughnuts

and

a duck-dog, too.”

What literary majesty.

“Rosy Robin Ross

Rosy’s going riding

on her

red rhinoceros.”

Sign me up.

I remember the feeling

of the colorful grainy pages

gripped between my tiny fingers as I

read his poems.

I loved the smell and

I loved the rhyme

I loved the feeling I felt when I

I thought I knew what poetry was.

I guess I don’t.

Isn’t it a tragedy

when we abandon

the simplicity of our childhood

poetry?

Dr. Seuss,

who pursued his PhD in rhyme and wit

would weave his genius and

we would commend it for making us feel

good.

Let us not forget him

as we grow older

in age and

in taste.

Because it would be a waste and a shame

if we had to face a world that lacked a love

for a cat who wore a hat.