The Marketplace

“The Marketplace” Today the marketplace is open. Ready with crisp linens for handfuls of gold. Hordes of buyers stomp the asphalt scurrying by and through to the next. I have worn my smile. My hair is wind-born. smelling of burnt amber and roses. My dress, summer silk, covers my flesh - Tones like island-bronze. And I have worn my smile. I banter over prices, politely. Others haggle, fussing, who is next. I, alone in my company, solo with passing memories of your hands on my face. I show everyone my smile. Evening approaches, hushing the buzz of the crowd. Memories of you sink into the dark... falling with my head upon my pillow. I remember walking the marketplace with you and how you made me smile.