by Peter Williams

Created on: February 02, 2007   Last Updated: May 14, 2007

Thai Market Day

She sits alone beside the street
Skin baked dark copper burned
Sun blessed beneath the skies that score this land
she sits alone, beside the street
a basket at her feet

This bundle she has wrought,
toted long from ersatz home to here
to sell, these last items before her life is spent
last precious links to youths fond hopes
and the life that never was

She sits here beside the street
Drowned in the sounds of village commerce
the clamour of a thousand desparate lives
and this bundle draws them close

The long, last glistening trail
of a tear, draws its line across her face
joining the long etched lines that cross that young, old land
that once framed her smiles,
now only the desperation, loss and hope
all of these
in the basket at her feet

So today, in this village stall
beneath the hot, the aged, the bloated sun
she comes to sell, this one last precious hope
a part of her,
in the basket at her feet
a hungry daughter cries.

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