MY FIRST WINDOW

by Margaret Rose Cunningham

Through that glass
Right smartly came the sun.
And towards sunset
I would see the glow if its descent.

Snow drew its own pictures
Gaint flakes
Fluttering feathers,
Clouded the earth
With white.

In June, Alma's lilac tree next door
Blossomed
Pulsing out such perfume
From its tiny floweres
That my room
And the entire
Neighbourhood
Were lilac scented.

On those long summer nights
When I was sent early to bed,
I saw and heard
Children playing in the street
Playing Kick the Can
Run Sheep Run
Statues
And skipping songs.

Another world
In Port Arthur
In 1945,
When I was ten.