Poem: Brixton

Street stalls stand tall,

As the merchants make convo with strangers.

Fresh flowers flush the air,

Their sweet notes still linger.

 

Food – of all shapes and sizes,

A feast for my very eyes.

Offering food for thought as to what

Else comes from such places of mystery and surprise.

 

The faces are friendly yet unfamiliar,

Looking left, looking right, I see only strangers.

The street stalls stand tall.

Waiting for the crowds of friendly strangers to waver.

 

 

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