misty market voices

.

The morning fog played at our feet

swirling softly, dulling voices

just like a mountain village street

Brisbane Markets shouting choices

.

“Bananas… Cav bananas here!”

but today his voice is swallowed

in padded walls of atmosphere

Low, heavy, carved out and hollowed

.

Then it lifted, it disappeared

Swiftly whisked by the waiting sun

like a silk table cloth is cleared

by the waiter’s hand on the run

.

The strains of change for every eye

if it paused, looking up to see

the vast blue wispy marbled sky

above the markets of Rocklea

.

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