The flower seller

Nicky Bedford, Rosebank

When I’m living far away, it’s the massed flower displays I think about and the folks there in all weather.

Although we lived in Plumstead, my mom managed a flower shop, Nosegays,on Main Road, Rondebosch.

I attended Grove Primary and spent after hours, Saturday mornings and holidays in the shop, and in the van delivering arrangements.

Where Pick n Pay and so on now stands, was a row of Victorian shops, with flats above.

The Flower Seller

The flower seller’s fat, and she wears a big shawl!

She sits on the kerb with her basket and all;

The wares that she sells us are not very
dear

And are always the loveliest things of the year.

Daffodils in April,

Purple flags in May,

Sweet peas like butterflies

Upon a summer day,

Brown leaves in autumn,

Green leaves in spring,

And berries in the winter

When the carol-singers sing.

The flower seller sits with her hands in her lap,

When she’s not crying roses, she’s taking a nap;

Her bonnet is queer, and she calls you My dear,

And sells you the loveliest things of the year.