Call Waiting Poem by Ima Ryma

From the hospital, the child phoned
Me. There had been an accident.
Her parents had been killed she moaned.
I had lived through the same event.
She told me Rachel was her name,
And now she had no family.
All she was saying was the same
As my childhood. How could this be?
But something told me this was fate.
I talked with her in soothing tone,
And told her that I would await
Anytime she needed to phone.

Eighty years later that call came,
From me to me - one and the same.