The Faerie’s Library

If you walk until the sun shines gold
And colored leaves are falling round
And stand before an oak of old
A faerie story will unfold.

The roughed-up trunk will open wide—
A door you never knew was there—
And you will take a peek inside.
It feels like honey, air, and light.

You walk along the passage slim
Until you reach a second door.
You light a candle, for it’s dim,
And push it open on a whim.

Inside a hollow room there are
Shelves of books and things so small.
You open every trunk and drawer
And sit down, for you’ve come so far.

And when you close your eyes to sleep,
The tales you read whirl round and round.
A crowned faerie makes no peep
But puts them back on shelves to keep.

At last she’s done; you wake; she flees,
And with a flash of light, she’s gone.
You look around and finally see
That this must be the faerie’s library.