There’s boots and cups and old décor,

Mice and lice and rats and more

Dusty pots and china plates,

Cutlery my mother hates

A piece of pre-chewed chewing gum,

And a thimble for my thumb

But past all that lies what is dear,

Ancient treasures hidden here

A genie’s lamp with one wish left,

A duffel bag once used for theft

Of gold and gems and money rich

The bank was robbed without a hitch

But further back, there still is more;

A teensy tiny wooden door

An entrance to a realm so small,

That you must shrink, or not fit at all!

Where more trinkets are always made,

Passed from hand to hand and bade

Farewell from this pixie land,

Through the door into my hand

Tucked away where space remains,

Right next to the magic grains

Slowly filling, bit by bit,

Until more there shall never fit

At which point the brass key is held,

Twisting locks that are be-spelled

Locking in behind the wards,

That which lies in the Cupboard

And once that’s good and well and done,

There still exists more to be won

Other worlds of joy and war,

With gifts of unlimited store

And what I’ve given is my word

That I shall continue the absurd;

Opening the Cupboard