The Bazaar Of Love

I will someday walk through it myself. Maybe to buy or maybe to sell.

I will see the excitement as people set up their tents at dawn, praying for a short day

I will see nervous flutter as yesterday’s scars will be hastily swept away

Some will open their shops to eager crowds, stories of their stock having traveled far and wide

Some will fly vibrant colors over their ateliers promising a whirlwind romance, young and wild

Some will display their gold, so bold, shimmering in the afternoon’s sun, with rusted iron underneath the radiance

Some will consider leniency of the bargain to patrons old 

Some will whittle their love into appetizing molds

Still, others will waft spicy aromas in the crisp evening air, urging their love to be taken before it is stale and cold 

By evening

I will pass some clinking of registers indicating closed affairs 

And excited chatter of near sales

I will also pass those making final pitches for their broken wares

When it is my time, I often wonder,

Will I end my day with a victory cheer or

Will I, like countless others, look to tomorrow for the right compeer