My little Dracula cape hung so lonely on the back of mamaw’s oak chair

My eyes stung of tears mixed with ghostly white face paint

My pleas were dashed away in the cool autumn breeze

You did not listen to me

You did not see my excitement when I came home with the cape from the local library

“A little ghost you’ll be” you stated to me

A shrug of your shoulder

“Little girls can’t be Dracula”

As if my play and make believe was challenging any of your beliefs

So there I sat on mamaw’s kitchen table

You painting my face and spraying my hair

My aunt holding my tiny hand promising me I’d still have fun

As mamaw came in with the small sheet that would be my costume

She gently shroud me and said

“Tomorrow we will play Dracula just you and me”