The merchant is here,
selling his wares on the streets,
giving a fair price.
People come afar,
to view his mystical pieces.
Looking and chatter.
His shelves hold clothing,
Persian rugs and Chinese jade,
even crystal balls.
But the favorite,
a gold, jewel encrusted egg,
from frozen monarchs.
Interest from all,
but when someone asks a price,
he simply replies:
"This beautiful one,
is not for sale, a gift for
my only daughter."
More people stopped by,
and they still kept on asking,
and he still replied:
"This beautiful one,
has no price, for it is a
gift for my daughter."
So he sold his wares,
and packed up his caravan.
Heading off for home.
He arrived later,
to a solitary grave,
and what he said was:
"This little one, is
all, only for you, my one,
my only daughter."
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