From a single word, a little seed, springs forth another book,
So small at first but growing if one takes a closer look.
Over time its pages will unfold in all their glory,
And when mature the book gardener will pick another story.
He planted “Once” a little seed which grew into “upon a time”,
So carefully he selects his words, row on row, line on line.
He then set “long” in a patch which sprouted into ” ago there was”,
Not for a particular reason, of course, but only just because.
Soon the gardener of words had many books in flower,
Which he tended from dawn to dusk, hour upon another hour.
Until at last the books matured and harvest time had come,
And he picked his treasured garden books, each and every one.
Then he placed them in his library to improve them all with age,
But not before he took some time to turn and read each page.
Satisfied his work was done he wrapped each book with care,
Then with his carriage loaded full, he headed to the fair.
Paul G Day