Bell Through the Market

The afternoon is heavy with fruit and spice

Voices rise and fade like smoke in the light

I weave between the colors and the open hands

With a little silver raining in the air

Bicycle dial

Ring through the crowd

Cut through the stalls

Soft and proud

Over the bread and the burdening calls

You carry me home through the munted walls

A woman lives by the oranges stacked in gold

A child turns fast when a bright note holds

The vendor waves me past his wooden stand

And the bell keeps time with my steady hands

Bicycle bell, ring through the crowd

Cut through the stalls, soft and proud

Hold through the breath and the bargaining calls

You carry me home through the market walls

For one clear second, everything parts

Noise becomes music, distance becomes light

Then the day falls back into its worn-out song

And I write the echo all afternoon long

Bicycle bell, ring to the crowd

Cut to the stalls, soft and proud

Over the bread and the bargaining calls

You carry me home through the market wall