as the market swelled with the holiday crowd coming in from all directions. the old farmer rolled into the market square in his run down pick up. the day looked promising and the mid day sun kind. what a beautiful day or so it seemed. as i sat across the road watching the market folks hustle, women bargain, children trouble the store keepers and young couples stealing glances in hope of a forbidden romance. my heart aching from a soured past and a glass of wine promising a grand future was all i had to offer to the magic that swelled from every conner of this confluence of life. how do we get to a place where we stop noticing the perfume that once captivated our being? my taste buds seemed to fail my enthusiasm almost like the like the women i loved.
so now as i sit crowded by my own past in the presences of hope and wonder, i realize that you can never buy time from the fading clock.
all the things that buy us happiness!
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