Portobello Road

Portobello Road

A scattered cloud Saturday morning

and all that was old is born again.

Aged store fronts, all painted

with pastel colors and promises,

teem with urbanites eager to find

a peace missing from city life.

Antique dealers preen and polish

long forgotten treasures, and artisans

guard their works like museum curators

between falafel carts and T-shirts stands.

Costume jewels tossed in bins,

look like grandma’s button box;

they tell the story of wasted money

or a memory dead with the wearer.

It is serene, surreal and staccato

as the crowd flows down the street.

They stop momentarily and swirl in eddies

of painters and farm fresh produce

before the stream catches them

and they continue to bob on their way.

SMG