The Passing Of A Butterfly Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

The passing

It is so long ago; the memory is fuzzy as an old photo,
the room was warm, the coal fire burned lustily
I looked out of the window the street lamp swayed,
and snow fell. I turned to my grandmother and said
If the snow continues, I will take out my sledge.
she was still her reading glasses had dropped on the floor,
oh, yes I knew but kept looking out it looked
So peaceful I will stay here and admire snow fall forever.
I picked up her reading glasses placed them back on her
face, we had no phone I had to put on an overcoatand
tell our neighbour, but before living, put more coal
in the oven, a helpless gesture, but I didn`t want her to be cold.
Many people came; they took her away while I looked
out of the window watching falling snow