For the Nurse on the Night of the Twelfth

You came in at three with a warm blanket
nobody had asked for and everybody needed.

You called my mother by her name
and not by her room number,
which is a small thing, and was not.

I do not remember your face.
I remember the blanket and the name.
Whoever taught you that, thank them.

This a fake test poem created by First Verse - it will be deleted at launch