In every town there is a shop, one that will make
your eye's go pop. A curio shop that has a bell
on the door and there infront of you are trinkets galore.
In the corner there is always a clock and
when it strikes it sends your body into shock.
Highly polished furniture where you can see your
face but you can never move round because there
is no space.Your frightened to breath in case you
knock something down, then the goggled eyed
shop keeper gives you a frown.Their glasses always
sit upon their nose and they always have that
familiar pose.The items in the shop are priced
way out of reach, then over comes the shop keeper
to give you a speech.Now on his face is cunning grin
and you are going to be sucked right in. He has his
own dictionary, on bull and how to give it; and he will
make sure you buy, and walk out with it. We must not
be fooled by the shop in every town, just walk on past
then give a little frown. A curio shop always looks so
pretty but I am an ex dealer so take a tip from my ditty.
In every poem list there is a bell and it rings when a wonderful poet is on show, full of curiousity and wonderful This is great Sis Love Duncan X
Another wonderful poem featuring the warmth and wit of Sylvia Spencer. Great write. Love, Sandra
Sylvia, you've made this sort of piece, with sentence-like flow, superb, resonant depiction of what otherwise seems the mundane, and wit thrown in at the end, all your own. (Need to find a name for it!) Love this one, in particular. A great read.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Those sort of shops I never feel happy in, you always feel as is the assistant thinks you are going to nick something. Nasty places. Great write describing them though. Love Ernestine XXX