The Little Gothic Shop Poem by Owen Cullimore

Down in the village
In the center square
Lies a little Gothic Shop
People hardly know it's there
Lanterns swing outside the door
A bell rings as you enter in
You are greeted by the owners smile
More like a cheeky grin
Yes, my dear the woman says
Holding out her hand
Covering each and every finger
With a silver band
Her rings are all unusual
None are very small
One has a little Lion on
She bought it from a market stall
As you look around the shop
At all its wondrous stock
Imagination runs away with you
Just like, you have had a shock
There's Dragons, Wizards and the like
And Incense burning, it smells so right
Witches by the score abound
To some it could be quite a fright

The Dresses hanging in the alcove
Take your breath away
Majestic colors, Red Blues and Greens
In styles that look so gay
Fancy boots, some short some long
With laces by the score
There is even a Highwayman's cloak
Hanging behind the door
On a shelf there's giant's castles
Where Wizards ply their trade
Along with their Frogs and Toads
It's where the magic spells are made
All the unusual Jewellery and Ornaments
Are put out on display
For you to try on and look at
In the hope that you will pay
To take some of it away with you
A dress to wear, a fancy ring
Something that takes your eye
It could be anything
Well my dears the woman says
What can I sell you today?
Can't let you in and out again
Without you have to pay
Her Earrings hang loosely down
Dangling from her ears
Dressed from head to foot in black
A true Goth through and through the years.