Throwback Thursday

Although I have, in the past, recapitulated a post or two, I haven't actually tried it as a regular (or even semi-regular) feature.  So - here it goes.

From Tuesday, May 11th, 2010, misspellings and all:


Roses A Penny
A Picture in Prose


"Roses a penny,
Roses a penny,
Come buy my many,
I has roses a penny."

Old and bent, shawl about her shoulders, fingerless gloves upon her hands, she walked the streets of London, selling her flowers. Her roses.

She carried her flowers in a sling across her chest and her money in a pouch slung under her breast, where it was safe.

She wandered through Soho and Covent Garden, Marleybone and Hyde Park. Selling her flowers, crying
"Roses a penny,
roses a penny,
come buy my many
I has roses a penny."
in a voice, once young and strong, now faltering, weakened by age and ill health.

When she sold a rose, she would smile and thank the buyer profusely, exposing gums long absent teeth and always saying "Thank you Love, for buying one of my many. May she bring you love and luck." Then she would tuck away her money, straighten up her sling, and again take up her call ...

"Roses a penny,
roses a penny,
come buy my many
I has roses a penny."

The streets of London are not kind. The chill of the night reaches fingers into everything, the fog leaves a wet over all. And the damp. The damp penetrates to the very quick. But a simple act of kindness is all it takes, at times, to spread a warmth throughout which can save a soul. She sells her kindness for a penny. Small price to pay for luck or love.

"Roses a penny,
roses a penny,
come buy my many
I has roses a penny."

Ndinombethe.