The Window Shopper

Prowling, prowling, slow and steady steps,
As round and round the shops she walks,
Always looking, looking, never buying.
One thousand and one ways to spend a day,
But never, not once, does she open her purse.
Indeed, it remains in the depths of her
Capacious bag, that ubiquitous holdall
Slung over her years-worn shoulder.
They see her coming, of course they do,
And watch, amused, through steamed up windows,
Windows that gaze upon the world outside,
A world cold, and rain-speckled, where the icy fingers
Of wind reach tenderly beneath her collar.
And still she prowls, prowls, on and on,
Ignoring, or perhaps not seeing, the smiles
That are on their faces as they watch.
Each day passing, passing, slowly,
Like her steps, prowling, prowling,
Round and round, days become weeks become
Months become years become a lifetime.
A lifetime of looking and never stopping to buy.

(c) 2nd witch (12/01/11)