Market Cross.

In the Middle of Town.


Market day, market cross

Octagonal icon of timber, a pyramidal crown atop

Eight lady’s maids to support.


Shelter for the jostlers, the lurkers, the weary.

Sepia toned characters blend to technicolour

The same stories, the same wares



The wheel moves faster and the people don’t see.

Unnamed neighbour, to view but yet to speak.

Symbol of this place, to pass but yet to wonder.

A life lived, cremated and resurrected.

To stand silent.


Look down upon the market

The hubbub and the folly

Stilted symbol for this place

And another time long passed.

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