The Magic Shop

THE MAGIC SHOP

corridors strange and ways aslant

the magic shop is still

orbs and crystals, dolls a-nest

dust eating the windowsill

who knows where it goes

and what noses it growses

the whips and whims ensnare

they watch what they want

and wants what they hunts

they find themselves down there

covetous corners where black is born

trinkets glint in the gloom

tricks and glitter, strings atwist

the fragile centers bloom

come in now, the puppets

here sweets is; here treats is

no wicked, no no, not that here

we sell and we sold,

we have and we hold,

and never a screak or a tear

bumbering, fumbering, tumbering child

alone and lost is it

precious, the one who goes astray

whose magical mouths is split

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