Tuesday, November 29, 2011

After Closing Time

Akin to the still of a graveyard
Is the deserted market-place
The stands, like squat, faceless statutes
Stare silently into space
A stray leaf scuttles up the street
As if to amplify
The emptiness where mobs of feet
By day, go rushing by

Come, buy your apples, trinkets, bling
Come, buy yourself a treat
We’ve got the best of everything
Our prices won’t be beat
The merchants and the barterers
Each seek the sweeter deal
Bargain and antique hunters
Looking for a steal

The square, a sea of splendor
The scowl, the gleam, the smile
They drift between each vendor
And up and down each aisle
Until the shroud of twilight
Signifies its close
The humble merchant smiles tonight
And buys his wife a rose

Akin to the still of the graveyard
Is the deserted market-place
The hawker and the merchant gone
Leaving no shred or trace
Of all the hustling, bustling throng
That shuffled past its ware
Nothing but a stray leaf scuttling along
On a bare and empty square


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Thank-you for stopping by my porch! I hope you were blessed by the visit!