does she remember mine

i remember her name.
but i doubt she remembers mine.
we were ten
or eleven
in the school yard
at st. Thomas Mores.
i can see her black hair,
the plaid skirt.
her silken blouse,
me in church blue, scuffed
brown shoes,
and white shirt. my head
a field of wild hair.
we loved each other,
of course.
her freckles alive
in the cold sun
as we kicked that red ball
from one end of the black
top to the other.
when i close my eyes
now, fifty years later
i can see her smile,
her bright smile. a
twinkle in her eyes.
but does she remember me.
i wonder. i wonder.
i remember her name,
but does she remember mine.