and post notes and photos about your poem.
Moving through the market place
with not a penny left to spend,
Thinking of the letters wrote
she was never going to send.
Wond'ring if the rain will stop,
if the dancing man will appear,
Up and down each aisle I roam
wond'ring if she has e'er been here.
So many faces pass by
with a rush of the shuffling feet,
Yet not a word is spoken
for fear that two might have to meet.
Some come to spend a penny,
some to make a dollar to two,
While some just come to get lost
and hide themselves from other's view.
Looking into reflections
that are moving from wall to wall,
I'm searching for the pictures
which I cannot clearly recall.
I'm asked if they can help me
as their politeness takes a bow,
I thank them for assistance
but I'm just window shopping now.