Snowdrops and the Marketplace

February; and as an ever-running harbinger

Of amazing Spring, Summer, and Harvest crops,

From ash and soil and  earthly rich remains of Sylvia

Emerge a whitened carpet of snow-like drops.

 

The Snowdrop’s neck cannot support its head;

This drooping of the head suggests submission.

Not so, it comes from sturdy stock, it’s said,

There isn’t any fear of its extinction.

 

Our courtship, to my eyes, seemed conventional, all-in-all;

I must have dragged my heels; the Snowdrop’ s on the wing;

A weekend in Paris – the writing’s on the wall-

I bend the  knee, pop the question, buy the ring.

 

She promised, at our wedding to obey, I do recall;

The promise I remember best was one to cherish -

And who said why and when and how matters not at all,

  And should be bagged and sent out with the rubbish.

 

For nigh on forty years. we lived as market traders;

Decisions,  decisions come with our stock in trade.

Our income came from what we bought and what other people paid us -

But - who wore the trousers ? Another decision to be made!

 

Marriage is a team event, but what if one dropped out?

We know who wears the trousers now; and was it he who tied the knot?

Carry on, give up , ask advice – but don’t all shout.

                                     Happily, the Snowdrop, simply, carries on and that will be her lot.

 

What I want is Sylvia back again, but I must learn  my fate;

And do I, still, have service to my God, whatever my estate?

Or, just stand, and also, serve Him while I wait,

Before I’m called to make my entrance through the Pearly  Gate.

 

Meanwhile, our Snowdrop has a problem and it’s this:

She must straighten up her neck to get a fully-frontal kiss.

 

© Roger Shakeshaft.  February 2025

Roger Shakeshaft [1933 -      ]     Sylvia Doris, née Burgess, Shakeshaft [1939 – 2022.] 

 

Sylvia was passionately keen on the Snowdrop. She was quite happy to spend half an hour on a cold or damp February afternoon to visit and admire a crop of snowdrops within walking distance from the car. We were fortunate to be on good terms with a specialist collector of snowdrops when we lived in Sutton-on-Trent.

 

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