That Christmas Day in Hong Kong <br />the sun gleamed on the plastic Christmas trees <br />the rippling flags, the signs <br />like vines hanging from the upper floors <br />in Nathan Road. <br />Below, we moved through the congregation <br />of shoppers, looking for the holy grail - <br />the best price, the perfect negotiation <br />that you believed was waiting to be won. <br /> <br />We walked from shop to shop in the December sun. <br />“Best price? ” But there was always doubt: <br />you could not fathom out <br />where the bidding for the watch <br />ought to stop - <br />always another shop <br />might offer more, ask for less <br />and you could not second-guess <br />those wily men, abacus in hand, <br />waiting and engaging <br />in the one-man price war you were waging. <br /> <br />Now I think I see the reason <br />you would spend the festive season <br />in obsessive bargaining. <br />You have the timepiece still <br />and the power of your will <br />is reflected in its face - <br />though I no longer wear your wedding ring.<br /><br />Janice Windle<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/seasonal-poems-christmas-in-hong-kong-1981/
