A penny for a rose, my lady
Will feed my family this day
His blue eyes shone from his dark dirty face
From whose garden he stole
the rose I could not say
I gave the penny asked for
He curtsied and moved away
To sell one remaining rose.
I thought of his family waiting
Who will not see him again this day.
The black hackney carriage stole his life
He lay crumpled, rose still held in hand
My penny had rolled away.
No information as to his name could I find
Retrieving my penny from the distance it rolled
I heard a whisper, his mother’s name is Rose
Five children she could feed this day
If this one penny had not gone astray
When he does not return
Wait, she will send another
So, you will find a way to feed the rest this day…
The Reluctant Poet 