The corner shop that serves us tea

And houses all furore.

From rising price to falling stars

In voices shrill and sore.

A pair of eyes does follow them

Look askance at their din

When closing shop with little hands

Or washing strainers clean.

A simple riddle troubles her,

At times, does make her smile

How grown up men have silly fights

Knowing all the while

That people die and prices rise,

Stars shoot down during night.

Amongst things that never change

Her book soaks in streetlight.