Over the recent past months she’d lost a lot of weight.
Her doctor said it was only a matter of time…
Ever since she was a little girl,
Vi wanted to be a florist.
She used to dream of selling flowers and plants,
And even types of trees—before she woke up in a forest.
But Vi never became a florist,
She never got the chance.
Just as when she went out with friends,
She was never asked to dance.
Instead, Vi worked as a stock-taker in a warehouse,
She remained single and typically drank on her own,
In her flat with a bottle of Famous Grouse.
All her life she’d been lonely and dissatisfied with her job,
She lost her virginity at the age of forty two—raped by a drunken yob.
Getting cancer was the last straw,
But it came as no surprise in a life so raw.
Before she died, Vi longed to sell some flowers,
So, to fulfil her dream, she stole a tray of Remembrance Day poppies.
It wasn’t quite like the real thing, but she didn’t mind.
Even after she was arrested and subsequently fined.
‘If I’m lucky,’ Vi thought. ‘I’ll die before I have to pay!’
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