At The Market

The aromas that fill my nostrils

Are nothing short of heavenly

The vibrantly clothed street vendors

Always seem at peace to be

 

My Mum and I are at the market

To buy veggies, salt and spice

We pass stalls stocked with hot cocoa

And freezers full of ice

 

The hawkers with their knick-knacks

The pungent smell of food

I doubt at the mart you’ll ever find

Anyone remotely rude

 

The Sun sets o’er the horizon

Marking the start of night

The sellers pack up all their wares

The buyers all take flight

 

For it is time to go to sleep

To push those bed-bugs away

But tomorrow it will begin again

At the crack of a brand new day

 

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