The stories it tells, Of places we will never see with our eyes Or feel with our fingers Of emotions that we have never rendered Of lives full of sadness And those filled with greed Of people unhappy Or people in need It tells us of children And old crippled folk Of monsters and dragons And towns filled with smoke Of fairies and princes And crowns made of gold Of falling kingdoms And castles, stony and bold It shows worlds of paper and paints Of villages blessed by the caring of saints Of dark worlds and light We experience all, in the dead of the night When we are captured by enchanting tales Hooked onto the story train’s rail We travel, undisturbed, and it never fails That we finish the pages with a sigh and a wail We fold down the pages