The first word
Is not aardvark
It is a
Yet that's what she remembers
From our first day

I realise of course
Memories of me
Grounded in forgotten days
Are shadows that
Will quickly fade away

So few will remember
Singing of the poets
Or philsopher's peans
As days pass
And years come between

Memories of me are doomed
They will expire
What little might remain
Are written words of fire
So we begin again

With the words in order
a, aa, aardvark
What silly games they play
aardwolf and Aaronic
Whiling away their writing days