The Shop on Willow Street

Inside a shop on Willow street
You may stop and chance to meet
The man who has collected things
From lands that he has seen.
Unique, they are, in design
Critiqued by him, over time
Funny looking, ordinary, things

He's seen so many things its clear
From dreams inside his mind, they rear
He'll change simple little notions
With strange goo from a potion.
Resisting all the common parts
Persisting, as he wields his art
As he puts his hands in motion.

With grace of hand that never strays
He'll take a vase that's made of clay
And slap a little of his goo
A map he'll trace as he goes through.
Omitting all the mundane things
Submitting it with lively rings
Then places it upon a shelf for you.

No longer does he sell his art
Much stronger, he, to be a part
Of all that is less ordinary
And called a man extraordinary.
Redeeming things with simple tools
Beaming like a silly fool
He proudly dances as you tarry.

He'll gladly show you all his treasures
And madly glow with his pleasures
As you ooh and awe in glee
Its true you'll leave more happily.
You'll swear you'll return one day
It's hard to tear yourself away
From the shop on Willow Street.

******************************

I know this isn't funny, But fun and humor is the only section that has a place to post poems for children.