We searched the river, searched the streams,
When summer died and autumn came,
We buried her on a cloudy day,
Perhaps we wished and prayed too hard,
She grins her silent, moldy grin,
I think she wants one final hug,
-Edward J. Allen III
"Baby Jane, poor Baby Jane,
She wandered off into the rain.
For weeks we hoped and prayed in vain,
Just wishing she'd turn up again.
And dreamt of her in wistful dreams.
The moon did wax, the moon did wane,
But still no sign of Baby Jane.
They found her in a sewage drain,
(At least the parts that did remain),
Of lovely little Baby Jane.
Beneath a sky so cold and grey,
And wished and prayed we had her near,
And cried such lonesome, tragic tears...
For now I see her in the yard,
And in the mirror, on the stairs...
Sometimes it seems she's everywhere!
And beckons me to let her in
By scratching at the window pane
Whenever it begins to rain.
But I just can't get past the bugs.
Our blessing has become our bane;
The spectre of our Baby Jane."
December 19th, 2006
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