The Florist

A Flower Shop

The florist shop had not a seen a single customer all morning,
but it had been by far the most interesting day.
The Daffodils had trembled and vibrated nervously,
and an Orchid had pretended to wilt,
re-erecting itself after coffee,smiling and triumphant.
Small Spiders had scaled some Petunias,
I watched them racing about,up and down,
on some kind of mad search.
I let them be.
Twice the wind had blown the door,making the bell ring,
and once I was actually forced from my seat to close it shut.
An old man passing by had smiled,
I think he thought my profession something good.
It had seemed the flowers were ganging up on me at one point,
I had to put my novel down and converge with them.
After that they seemed quite happy,
and we all sat silently for a few moments,
sharing each others colour,
then they seemed to relax.
Perhaps it was me and my coffee.
The Roses are an incredible red.
No customers this morning.

Kevin Nolan