The Flower-Seller’s Tent

steven hahn flower-seller's tentWarm inside the flower-seller’s tent
where I hide from the cold
stretching out my intent
to eventually purchase
a flower or two
but only after inspecting each plant through and through
as the seller harangues with his jovial taunt
I say with a smile….
“when I see it well then I’ll know just what I want!”
but after a while his tone becomes terse
so I finally take the few coins in my purse
and gladiolas in hand, with my last money spent
I return to the cold from the flower-seller’s tent.

Why, indeed.

I’m often asked by folks I’ve met,
A question I’ll not soon forget.
“So, why did you come here?” they say,
It’s much better in the USA.
California’s warm and bright,
While Sweden’s cold and dark as night.
The average Swede is icy too,
Might as well be a blonde igloo.
I see their point, and must confess,
I sometimes miss the old US.
But the fact is that I’m now stuck here,
So stop this torment and get me a beer.