Here you will find the Poem Memory of poet Zora Bernice May Cross
Late, late last night, when the whole world slept, Along to the garden of dreams I crept. And I pulled the bell of an old, old house Where the moon dipped down like a little white mouse. I tapped the door and I tossed my head: "Are you in, little girl? Are you in?" I said. And while I waited and shook with cold Through the door tripped me---just eight years old. I looked so sweet with my pigtails down, Tied up with a ribbon of dusky brown, With a dimpled chin full of childish charme, And my old black dolly asleep in my arms. I sat me down when I saw myself, And I told little tales of a moonland elf. I laughed and sang as I used to do When the world was ruled by Little Boy Blue. Then I danced with a toss and a twirl And said: "Now have you been a good, good girl? Have you had much spanking since you were Me? And does it feel fine to be twenty-three?" I kissed me then, and I said farewell, For I've earned more spanks than I dared to tell, And Eight must never see Twenty-three As she peeps through the door of Memory.