We lift our eyes to grade the quality of the star
And murmur to ourselves
The wealth it would add to our shelves
To be sold at a mid-afternoon bazaar
If only it wasn't quite so far...
We spin its rays into our concoctions with the ears of elves
And stock them high upon our shelves
And watch for lone travelers to ask upon our thick grimoires
For spells of love
Or charms to set their luck alight
For perilous treks through an unforgiving desert
We pull down the sun laced draught and spin tales of bottled stars from the skies above
And watch their faces turn bright
As they turn away, content and unalert.
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