not a glint of precious light
penetrated Nan’s backyard
not a hint of sunshine on a
spring day to warm caked earth
nor a blade of living grass
yet alone a flower head
only noise, the noise of trains
rattling past on arch tops
brickwork blackened by smog
and the sight of jaundiced nets
hanging from sash windows
that had seen cleaner days
yet flowers were beautiful
and in the front garden next door
an abundance of saffron crocus smiles
at age four not knowing better
not knowing they had been nurtured
she picked them, all of them
a posy for her Nan
all she can remember is the
punishment metered out, the shouts
of another and the neighbour crying
for her lost garden
no one understood that the flowers
were intended as a gift for someone
much loved who had no flowers
of her own