Literature
I Saw Something at the Market Today
Heartfelt tears and guided stems
Frolic in the farmer’s dens
A flash of silken ruby red...
Catch it, quick! Oh no, it’s fled,
Through rowdy laugh and murmured quip
Bounding forth, a zig-zag trip
On frailish feet but not deterred
By human, spirit, cold, or word.
But as the day grows to a close
And shops and people start to doze
Even small esk must lay to rest
Tired from the day’s great quest.
Gentle tears and pungeant leaves...
There you are, under the eaves.
The day is done, the night grows cold
Close your eyes, and dream of old.