The Flower Shop

On the grey street there is a flower shop.

Tall buildings line the street. Granite face after granite face marches neatly down, until there, in unabashed simplicity, stands a white building front, freshly painted, with flowers set out before it. I pass it on every walk to the local grocery, a memory of fair fields planted right in the middle of a bustling street. I always pause in front of it. The groceries are heavy in my stroller.

Sometimes I’ll buy flowers, £1 for a bundle nearing the end of their bloom, and I’ll take them home with me to my granite flat and scatter them in bottles throughout the rooms.

Thank God that flowers can be picked.



3 thoughts on “The Flower Shop

  1. Grey street, granite building after granite building…..I feel my spirit taking a dive and THEN a white building front, FRESHLY painted, with FLOWERS set out……I feel my spirit SOARING. WOW, Jessie, you can really make a story come alive. AND THEN… the picture of beautiful long stem yellow FLOWERS!!! What a bonus! What a TRUE artist you are. You could only have gotten this from ME. 🙂 I must keep searching. It’s in here, somewhere!

    With deepest love,

  2. Yes, you are SUCH an artist! This little picture brightened my room, my day, this piece of my life. Ahhhhhhh, your words are so tangible. I breathed in the flower shop!

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