It was spring when they came for her,
the lawn alive with crocuses,
the days lengthening.
On April nights I still rock myself to sleep
to the lullaby of wind in the trees.
In her welcome box
I put a sprig of cherry blossom;
it was all I had to give her,
that and the cradle
of another woman’s arms.
(In Mother and Baby Homes, birth mothers
were expected to prepare a “Welcome Box” which accompanied
their babies to their adoptive homes)
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Gill Garrett would
be pleased to hear them.