Every Wednesday and Thursday, Oxford holds a city market in Gloucester Green. Today Brandon and I rode our bikes to city centre and headed to Gloucester Green to buy some of our favorite falafel and check out the market. We were surrounded by fresh fruits and vegetables, and at 1/3 the price of the local grocery stores, we've decided this is the place to stock up on produce. As I rounded the final corner of the market, a man behind one of the tables was singing to the customers walking by, telling them in song that they should buy his fruit. Tonight I felt inclined to write a poem about it:Market
Like Oliver Twist singing
Who will buy this wonderful morning?
the Englishman pitches his sale in song,
raises his voice in entreaties that
urge me to buy his baskets of fruit.
As I hand him my silver coin,
his melody is the portal to Dickens,
to the whispers of orphaned children
singing in the cool, crisp air
Who will buy?
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