Excreted from the void and lost,
At last his consciousness clocked in,
While at a window licked with frost,
Which coyly seemed to beckon him.
The wagging of the front door bell’s
Accusatory silver tongue
Could not reverse the potent spell
Of splendors he’d been dropped among.
The faint pastels of rainbows and
the flattened hues of flowers
were no rivals to this fairyland’s
Red ropes of licorice dangled down,
impending like stalactites.
Swirled lollys looked like grinning clowns.
The bins poured out prismatic lights.
Clenching quarters in his mittens,
He walked between his private giants,
Impressed they knew a world so hidden,
Affirming thus his shrewd alliance.
Filling his hands to overflowing,
he grandly at the front unfurled
his swag. The bell salutes his going,
a king into a smiling world.