Friday, 6 April 2012

Day 6 - The bean

A barely yellow blurry light falls gently on the square,
Where the traders selling worldly wares swear in the open air.
And the token words there spoken, heard by birds in oaks are broken,
down to chimes and cheeps unspoken, where the soaken herds have cloaks on.

There is seen a bottle green, mottled like a throttled spleen.
In the bottle can be seen, fossil of a tiny bean.
And the bean is not for sale, not for money nor for tales,
it is merely on display, clearly played for other sales.

All around the people gather, sister, brother, uncle, mother.
Chatting on the newest wonder and forgetting one another.
And behind the dipping sheep, creeps a slippy sneaky thief.
From a tent where people kipping, try to get from sleep relief.

Passed enclosures to the crowd , whose loud clothes act like a shroud
to the thief, who proudly walks up to the stall in fact unbowed.
He begins to tell the story, to distract them, of a locket.
Slipping bottle into pocket, fitting like a throttle socket.

As he thinks he is unseen, magic precious bean took clean,
he continues with the story, of the locket of a queen.
But he's spotted by the watchful dotted eyeball of the seller
and she points to his side pocket where the bean is glowing yellow.

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