The Vendors

as I come from the train, they all appear
offering their wares to see and buy:
a cup of hurry, a bag of fear,
a handful of nothings, a schedule to apply.

I stand at their carts distracted and drawn
from my chosen route to the vendor’s stand
I spend all I have on what is shown
and go my way with my nothings in hand.

along the path there’s a merchant I meet.
a craftsman, he too has items to sell:
a coat made of love, jewels of peace,
shoes full of wisdom, treasures avail.

I stand at the treasures, empty, unkept.
I long to buy, but I’ve nothing to spend.
I stopped at the vendors, and all that is left
is a fist full of nothings piercing my hand.