Despite the beautiful renewal
of life that spring brings,
amid timid crocus blooms
and new grass sprouting green
where only grey had been
for months, spring also arrives
with sadness.

Twenty-six years ago I lost
my first baby in the springtime.
Four years later, I lost
another baby
who was due to be born
in the spring.

This quilt began with a square
of batik from my friend Beth
that reminded me of a baby's footprint.
It is strewn with embroidered forget-me-nots.

Others have long forgotten
the children I miscarried;
I remember with a whisper.