The Lullaby Store Next Door
The store next-door
is a lullaby store
with a purple satin curtain door
and blue-colored glass on the window
with birds on the sill composing songs
while a white-haired fellow
deep in his chair
beneath the window
hums along.
And past the man
and through the door,
a gently rocking rocking-floor,
and soft wind blowing,
softly blowing,
softly blowing through the store.
The gently rocking
rocking-floor
inside the sleepy store next door
is green as the grass of a wind-tickled meadow,
and sunlight that shines no matter how strong
through the blue window
colors the air
a moonlight glow
all daylong.
And the cashier man
who built the store
gently rocks on his rocking-floor,
his nose breathing,
slowly breathing,
slowly breathing out a snore.
The cashier man
who built the store
summons songs with his fingers as he snores,
while whistling around him soft wind blows.
His nose in time with the wind sings along.
On a face like a pillow
in soft flannel hair,
his nose is an oboe
lost in song.
And nothing will
disrupt his snore
not even as he summons more
of his lullabies flowing,
gently flowing,
gently flowing sleep’s allure.
Customers come
to the lullaby store
for the comforting promise of sleep’s sweet allure
from lullabies even some grandmas don’t know.
“Huh-lo?” The cashier man snores along,
then trance-like and mellow,
waggling through air,
a finger dance followed
by a song.
We’ve had some,
now let’s go for more
lullabies from the lullaby store,
and tonight we’ll be singing,
quietly singing,
quietly singing songs from next door.
