Within that bustling busy place,
I saw a pale and tired face,
as smoothly practised every day
she packed each hard won prize away.

As lunchtime fell, she'd had her fill,
of impatient lines stood at her till,
'twas almost time to toll the bell
and Oh! she knew that sound so well.

I heard the clink of jangled keys,
they loosed her chains of slavery.
I saw relief light up her face,
shine in that busy bustling place.

A second ticked a second more,
she caught my glance across the floor,
smiled shyly as I joined her queue,
last one in line; till tweny two.

She moved with slow unhurried grace,
lunchtime forgot; no urgent pace.
I watched each item make it's way
wished it would take the whole of day.

I stole a moment of her time,
became her first and last in line.
And that smile I never have forgot,
She loved me, or; she loved me not.