Easter Lilies

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1. For a long time she stood in the flower shop window,

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the daffodils dearest at this time of year.

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Inside she emptied her purse on the counter,

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“I want to buy all of the daffodils here”.

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By her eyes it was plain to see she’d been crying,

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as she tucked back a strand of loose hair from her face,

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“I want to spend all of my money on flowers

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and I need every daffodil here in this place.”

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2. Clutching her harvest, a cornsheaf of flowers,

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she clambered aboard the late rush hour tram.

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and by Shweigaardsgate*, a small pool of water ,

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had formed on the floor as if wrung from her hands.

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It just seemed to add to the lost look about her,

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as the grey rattling city went grumbling past.

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She sat like a small child testing for butter,

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her face lit in yellow from the flowers tighly clasped

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3. Once in her apartment she lay down the blooms,

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and divided them up into glasses and jars,

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till daffodils filled every space in the room,

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then she lit every candle she found in the house.

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She bathed and she dressed and corked open champagne,

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which made pigeons fly from her windowsills.

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Then closing the curtains on birds in the rain,

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she stood among flickering daffodils.

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4. Surrounded and centred she pondered her feelings,

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sofa’d and cushioned on feathers she lay,

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holding on to the pillows lest she float to the ceiling,

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and just like the cigarette smoke drift away.

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She wondered just where the wind might deliver

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an unwritten letter, a torn envelope.

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Though candlelight warmed she suddenly shivered

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and the yellow flowers shimmered with brightness and hope.

(*a district of old Oslo)

(Ralph McTell)