As the morning sunlight brightly shone <br />Through the window of the corner shop, <br />It lit the rows of pop bottles <br />That stood upon the shelves. <br /> <br />Their coloured rays made patterns <br />As they streaked across those salmon tiles, <br />Some cracked and worn yet all were stained <br />By footmarks of the past. <br /> <br />The wall was stacked with magazines <br />Some bent and creased and out of place, <br />And lined the narrow pathway <br />To the counter straight ahead. <br /> <br />Where stood the lonely shopkeeper <br />Behind those tiers of chocolate bars, <br />Who leaned against the cigarettes <br />And stared unto the door. <br /> <br />As he waited for that bell to ring <br />To break the silence of the morn, <br />Then greet the same old faces <br />And to pass the time of day.<br /><br />ANDREW BLAKEMORE<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-newsagents/
