We've emptied trucks and trailers, unloaded groaning vans,
built a city of partitions, our goods displayed on stands.
Here's the general public, slowly trudging by.
Both hands clutching brochures, drinks and chips and pies.
Mothers heaving strollers, inside, exhausted screams.
Granny's loaded down with all her children's dreams.
Spa baths, new paint systems, the latest folding beds.
Cacophany of microphones, floodlights overhead.
Extra special discounts, ten year guarantees,
yes, we do take cards, hand that cash to me.

A few among the thousands, choose this time to speak.
In quiet anonymity, their confidence to keep.
They leave us with the weight of life, of family tragedy.
Unburdened, light, they walk away. No charge of course - it's free.

[Sonnet from a collection by S.C.N. Pockley]

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