you’ll cross the bridge near the center of town,
from the constable’s door just a few paces down;
at the bend near the corner of Ash and Vine,
Ye Olde Sweet Shoppe of Verses and Rhymes.
its here you will find it, my favorite store,
its soft warmth beckons through a leaded-glass door;
your arrival here announced with a chime,
at a desk near the fire lays a writing slate.
here, a tall, frail poet sits in his chair
his sweet bonny lass stands beside him in wait,
both greet each guest with deliberate care.
a sign at the door tells of an experience rare,
“pairings of sweets for tooth and ear”;
be it chocolate and wine, for a rendezvous fine,
or crumpets and tea, for a moment of ecstasy,
each tasty treat shared with verse and rhyme
each custom creation, an encounter sublime.
the ambiance... flawless, the company... sweet,
the perfect encounter, is the word on the street.
the shelves here are filled with tastes overflowing
candles are trimmed, the fireplace is glowing
sheets full of verse, of sonnet and psalm
sales may run short, but the hours last long
yet, each customer’s entrance is met with delight
giving no mind for any work through the night
for payment in full is made with their eyes
the giggles, the dances... the satisfied sighs.
for what would you give to know you’re the one
to restore another’s hope, the place life’s begun
and what would you sacrifice just so you’d hear
each delightful cry, see each joy-filled tear
knowing so many go hungry, and never will know
the comfort that’s brought from a heart that’s restored,
for hope is alive, and its hope that is shared
in each word that is writ, in each line that is paired
to each one who finds their way to this couch
whether man, woman, child, need little or much
a custom concoction to each one unique
for this singular purpose, its a poem they seek
whether free verse or rhyme, a chorus, a song
for a mother, a brother, or a loved one gone on
for some it's a present to a lover or spouse
for others the poem is a gift to themselves
yet, whatever the reason, the purpose propelling
each word is revealing, some even foretelling
for with insight and honesty, and peace of mind,
great comfort and solace they find in each line
there near the corner of Ash and Vine
at Ye Olde Sweet Shoppe of Verses and Rhymes.
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 3:31 AM UTC
you’ll cross the bridge near the center of town,
from the constable’s door just a few paces down;
at the bend near the corner of Ash and Vine,
Ye Olde Sweet Shoppe of Verses and Rhymes.
its here you will find it, my favorite store,
its soft warmth beckons through a leaded-glass door;
your arrival here announced with a chime,
at a desk near the fire lays a writing slate.
here, a tall, frail poet sits in his chair
his sweet bonny lass stands beside him in wait,
both greet each guest with deliberate care.
a sign at the door tells of an experience rare,
“pairings of sweets for tooth and ear”;
be it chocolate and wine, for a rendezvous fine,
or crumpets and tea, for a moment of ecstasy,
each tasty treat shared with verse and rhyme
each custom creation, an encounter sublime.
the ambiance... flawless, the company... sweet,
the perfect encounter, is the word on the street.
the shelves here are filled with tastes overflowing
candles are trimmed, the fireplace is glowing
sheets full of verse, of sonnet and psalm
sales may run short, but the hours last long
yet, each customer’s entrance is met with delight
giving no mind for any work through the night
for payment in full is made with their eyes
the giggles, the dances... the satisfied sighs.
for what would you give to know you’re the one
to restore another’s hope, the place life’s begun
and what would you sacrifice just so you’d hear
each delightful cry, see each joy-filled tear
knowing so many go hungry, and never will know
the comfort that’s brought from a heart that’s restored,
for hope is alive, and its hope that is shared
in each word that is writ, in each line that is paired
to each one who finds their way to this couch
whether man, woman, child, need little or much
a custom concoction to each one unique
for this singular purpose, its a poem they seek
whether free verse or rhyme, a chorus, a song
for a mother, a brother, or a loved one gone on
for some it's a present to a lover or spouse
for others the poem is a gift to themselves
yet, whatever the reason, the purpose propelling
each word is revealing, some even foretelling
for with insight and honesty, and peace of mind,
great comfort and solace they find in each line
there near the corner of Ash and Vine
at Ye Olde Sweet Shoppe of Verses and Rhymes.
Post script.
though you may have difficulty finding it, this shoppe certainly exists in my mind. I have always imagined such a combination here, not too far from where I live.
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