A Marketplace of the finest silks

In an alleyway of stone

The smell of fresh spices

with a tone as warm as home

Women with painted faces

Gaze at you as you walk by

With silent whispers in the wind

Bringing sweet aromas of rye

The colorful rainbow of silk

Wrapped round most every hip

And if you pay the right price

You just might get a clip

The quiet murmurs of gossip

Traded from ear to ear

The narrow open alleyway

Bringing sunlight in clear

Small jars of the finest scents

Line the barren walls

And of the many voices

It is to you that they call

The soft hiss of the breeze

Brushes past your rosy cheek

A veil of silence dropping over 

With a woman ever so meek

The clank of silver

Passed from hand to hand

Stop suddenly with the passerby

Ever, quietly bland

For she had no gallant robe

And shoulders quickly turned

Away from the stranger

Who had no money to burn

Her form was that of a twig

With rag to cover it all

Her breath ever so crisp

And smile as cold as fall

Se had been there many before

And the reaction was always the same

Upon the many delicacies 

She lay her delicate claim

For though she looked awry on top

Underneath the rag

Stood the gorgeous queen

Not the expected hag

But since her subjects didn't know

She was shunned from every side

For the way she looked

And who she was, fatally collide