snow or sunshine
she was always there,
in the long exit passage
of the old town metro
near Stockkholm's waterfront

tunes, mournful or
joyful, from her violin,
in harmony with the
tone of the season,
the street scene in town

Ulla, well into her seventies,
was the sight that greeted
me every  morning and
post-lunch, as I took the long
exit enroute to work

counting myself lucky,
landing a job in an office
in the old town, a virtual
tourist haven in the continent,
why, for the whole world.

the office lay but
a stone's throw from
the station , once past
Ulla's resident spot,
really the best part in town

at one edge of the old
town lies the grand
palace, the King's avenue
slopes down towards
the beautiful waterfront

at the other end of town,
the lake and the Baltic
meet, and the largest
passenger ships in the
world lie serenely anchored

Ulla never glanced at
you, as the coins rained
down on her spread scarf,
but did flash a smile,
gracious, but sad

the fifty-odd employees
at my government institute
were but a minority
in the vast scale, the grand total
of her daily supporters

for, summer, snow or
spring, the old town
teems with people: from
afar, from villages inland,
ever vibrant with colours

a long day for us
at work, the day starts
at eight - but so also for
Ulla, who worked six
days to our regular five

'poor lady, I wonder
if she can afford lunch,
even a sandwich,', said 
my friend Kalle - taking her 
a burger, part of his routine

'for sure she goes at
sundown to the home
for the homeless' I ventured,
'where they offer but a night's 
stay, one is out at dawn'

seasons changed, years
rolled on, with momentous
changes in our lives -
marriage, parenthood, sadly,
divorces for some

but time stood still
for Ulla, so it seemed
to us - but no probing
on our parts, something
in those faded eyes said no

when the winter winds
blew straight into the exit,
poor Ulla played on,
sad tunes for the season,
shrunk into an ancient coat

then the inevitable happens
though we never did
believe  it would, her reserved
spot lay empty for days,
we had it confirmed from a guard

'yes, you are right', the
guard said, 'she had no one,
and now that she is gone,
her estate, all her assets,
reverts to the government'.

'it's not as if she
had a grand villa, to be
used as a ministerial office',
I whispered to Kalle as
the guard waxed eloquent

a few days later, as
dined at the old town's
sushi palace, the guard
hailed us boisterously
from the best choice of seats

'you know how much
was left for the state by
old lady?', he asked
suddenly, shrewdly
looking at each in turn

' a hundred', I ventured
lazily, and he shook his head
in triumph; 'oh don't carry
on thus, it's banal', Kalle cried,
but then said,' a thousand, there!'

'she left more than
you or I will  earn in decades
from our slavery', the guard
guffawed, ' it was a little less than
-  not a thousand, but -  three million'

something in her faded eyes
to