In Market Shadows

Beneath the fading tarps and rusted shelves, Where time's echoes are sold by the pound, I found him A dark monolith of childhood dreams, The dark lord's storage case, Its latches heavy with memory. Inside: Heroes and villains, Each figure holding a quiet defiance against decay. Blasters still pristine, Their truth tested in water's weightless embrace. This is not just collecting. This is communion With a time when the Force Fit between small hands. When battles played out On carpets, in backyards, In minds too young to know They'd one day seek it again In market shadows. Beneath the mask, Boushh lingers Leia's breath held tight in plastic disguise. Lando waits, Skiff guard's helmet low, His grin concealed in the crowd of villains. This is not just collecting. This is communion With a time when the Force Fit between small hands. When battles played out On carpets, in backyards, In minds too young to know They'd one day seek it again In market shadows. Proof of purchase, fold and sent, Patience measured in weeks and wonder. The emperor, an admiral from revenge Silent envoys from distant lands, Arriving like gifts from the galaxy's edge. Here, a galaxy lives again. Hoth's cold breath lingers on a Snowtrooper's armor. Tatooine's twin suns glow faintly Behind Leia's worn eyes. A farm-boy, ever hopeful, stands ready To ignite his future. This is not just collecting. This is communion— With a time when the Force Fit between small hands. When battles played out On carpets, in backyards, In minds too young to know They'd one day seek it again In market shadows.