The First Flower
The first winter after a long war was cold
but today the snow was slushy the beginning of spring
It was a poor street house had not been
painted for years, not much food and the ice was
reluctant to let go of its pale grip.
It was then I saw it along a wall of flaking cement
a small solitary, yellow flower the colour so bright
it blinded me it was like I had a moment of clarity
I understood and saw it all.
In the windows of old houses curtains and on sills
flowers in pots and empty tins humanities need for beauty.
I must not forget hasted home find a piece of paper
and wrote it down.
So long ago now, it was 1946 and people were friendly
we had suffered together and survived.
Jan Oskar Hansen is a published poet from Portugal.