A peddler strolls by and opens his jacket so
Fringed and de-hemmed by years of practice
Each pocket a carrier for emotions held captive
Yet the rise in his voice shows a seller proactive
His face reflected the age of sweet old
To pick and choose, each product seems bold
A timepiece to shimmer with lost-alloy gold
Or perhaps a locket with photographs sold
"To hope is to dream; do not fear or capitulate"
He states so methodically yet his words calmly resonate
"All my items are free, but to you, they are fate,"
To finally feel that they one day will sate