In The Market For The Exotic Poem by Terence George Craddock

I am the stealth one
moving through the market
seeing yet unseen

swallowed moving silent
passing through throngs
crowds of eager shoppers

life web drift tapestries
swirl in all their bright
pulse patterns colours

people before me revealed
in the market produce fruits
vegetables meats seasonings

trinkets are trade sold
descended upon by swarms
of loud thrilled bargain

seeking competing buyers
myriads of stories city gossips
are family friend chatted in cafes

with treats cups
of coffee small glasses
of tea sweetened

time traditional market
is my hunting ground
I have crossed oceans

seas of thought
to absorb customs
sights sounds

exotic smells
in foreign lands
are life spice

I pass invisible traveller
I native purchased wear
your clothes blend tanned

skin dart about
as shadow swift
in vision flight

pause still unseen
bustle packed crowd blended
as I shift sights market

watch you bag bargain
purchase with time
mist absorbent eyes

I am migrations marches
streams of transformation timeless
rivers of restless journeys