Fairytale Town

I want to live in fairy tale town And open me a book shop. Might not make much money mind. But I don't mind, that's not what I'm looking for. A cobbled street, and a years old tea pot. Two Victorian glass windows, To either side of a great oaken door. With the words "antiquities" emblazed above. One church spire and a sweet shop below,  next door to a fish and chips vendor.  The smells of which fill the merry streets of fairy tale town. Where people always need old books. Stocked behind venetian blinds  Collecting dust because they're never cleaned.  Row after row of books.  Small, big. Battered and broke.  I would never throw one away.  Remised to even sell them, each one is a treasure.  They tell their own stories.  It would be modest, of course, this little shop of mine. Or ours.  A tiny front room, a labyrinth of shelves.  A till, for when the book sell themselves. And a back room that is just right for two.  Two chairs, a fire and book panelled walls. One table sat central, chess board atop. Years have worn the squares to fade.  Two cups, one pot. Fairy tale town, a game well played.