Earlier today I was talking with A…. and was trying and failing(so I was thinking), at explaining something below is a little of what I wrote…

“…The only way I can describe it is… imagine a dusty book shop. Most would walk past and go to the new modern one. Some would go in and have a little look coughing and complaining of the musty smells and how old it is. But us? We’d be sat on the floor of one of the aisles lost in the wondrous depths of some well worn musty book thats seen better days and yet to us its a dreamscape to a wonderland telling fantastical tales and painting landscapes, sights and smells beyond our fantasies and depicting smells and sounds that linger with every word, every page…”

A…. is amazing and understood. I got thinking about it and thought I’d give it a try at writing our bookshop.
So A…. I hope you like our bookshop…



          

                   ~…Storytellers Travels…~

Old store
on a busy street,
So many pass by
talk with people they meet,
Windows covered
in a slight layer of dust,
Looks kinda foreboding
not a building to trust,
Old golden lettering
faded by years,
Storytellers Travels
surrounded by gears,
While most pass by not noticing
some they stop and stare,
How come this dirty shop’s
still firmly trading there,
Few enter feeling brave
might find a treasure for me,
Musty smells and coughing dust
get me out in the fresh air free,
This shop is an enigma
a place untouch by age,
An ageless mystification
forgotten by modern rage,
A hulking great monstrosity
two stories looking down,
To eat up passers-by
or spew words and make them drown,
Enticed by pull of stories
she stepped inside the beast,
On sirens song she walked
eyes alighting on such a feast,
Down dusty aisles her fingers skim
books calling her one by one,
Following the call the loudest
her fingers come undone,
Four aisles over the book it sighs 
she’s found the one to read,
Lean against the shelf
anticipation and such need,
Feet slide down book opens
look up and meet a gaze,
Another lost soul just like her
under a stories spellbinding daze,
Two heads bent seeing wondrous
tales,
Fantastical landscapes
mythical ship sails,
Dreamscapes and fables
weaving incandescent threads,
Spiritually entrancing animals
walk in celestial flowerbeds,
Ethereal woods with
wise elder trees,
Admonish and berate
naughty pixies on their knees,
Birds of enchanting colours
fly through kaleidoscopic skies,
Scents of heavenly fragrance
enhance star spangled eyes,
Grandfather time chimes
in the dusty old book shop,
He moans its time for bed
but the Story weaver tells him stop,
He points at the story travellers
in aisle number four,
Side by side they sit
enraptured by the book upon the floor…x.

I hope everyone gets lost in a book every now and again. Happy hugs to everyone at the end of the wire.x.