The Shop Around the Corner

The Shop Around the Corner

In haven of the cobbled lane, where dust‑laden dawn is light,
a modest sign in faded gilt swings open, welcome bright.
Whispers of tea and marmalade beneath the creaking beams—
the shopkeeper in tweed, his smile a dim lighthouse gleams.

He sorts the ribbons of currants, the golden honeyed scone,
every day a small ceremony, every Thursday bringing home.
Lạngemet—a single stack of copper spoons—his little craft,
while a girl in woollen cardigan through the verge comes to draft

her favourite Brøder & Cud, a gentle, breath‑soft romance,
but never more than within the grid of the tea‑pot's glances.
That the shop is more than cardboard and… an ordinary space,
for love in a corner shop parses the past’s slow, weary pace.

The world beyond the shop, a ribbon of traffic and wrong,
still finds its rhythm in the sigh of the shopowner’s song.
The door remains ajar, a promise hand‑written in the air,
a simple refrain of life: Components: love, bread, and fare.

And when the evening gold drapes its quiet arc over the lane—
the shop’s warm glow in robin‑egg light—all hearts will sustain
the magic from the corner shop, where two people learn to be,
finding in the mundane pulse a tale in whispered LOU.