The Market

Early in the morning

You can see them walking

Up the streets to the shops

They will gripe and bicker

Stomp their foot at the seller

All for a cent more

A sigh rises into the air

You can smell the despair

Now they come

One by one

To see what Mr. Turnike has to sell

You will watch him frown

As they talk his prices down

He will snap and snare

All to get a fair share

A tomato

Slides off his stall

Making its way down the street

In the hands of Little Timmy

His feet can only go so fast

As he dashes around the corner

Ready to make his move

“Thief”

THIEFFFFF”

His head dashes up

As his eyes searches the crowd

Shoving the tomato into his mouth

Gobbling it down

He was almost caught

But not this time around

He walks on into the alley

Into the cold night

The market is quiet now

Not a stall in sight

All the milk was sold today

And the farmers had a crowd

The market is now closed

And the moon is high

A profit lost

A profit gained

In the market, it’s all just the same

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