Her name is Jane, and in fifty-seven,
we shared experience and a room,
looking back at a little bit of heaven,
the miracle of love and new life's bloom.
"I think that we have met before."
The years, the miles, life's loss or gain,
Unaware passed, living what was in store.
She said with wonder, "Can this have been?"
"The name seems, somehow, to touch a chord
and stir something in my recall.
Were you my partner in that little ward,
where our sweet bundles were brought down the hall?"
And our faces glowed over tiny beds
in that room, an island in the world,
where we cuddled them and kissed little heads;
those perfect fingers on ours curled.
And so you say, "Jane is my name.."
I'm glad you shared that memory,
thankful for the sons, now grown, that came
those special days that you spent with me.
©06/18/2012 Carol Morfitt Welch