The emerald stairway,
Leads nowhere that is seen
Count each step,
A thousand two hundred and seventeen.
The attic high above,
Holds up the roof
Dusty boxes with memories,
The only remaining proof.
Crumbling papers
Line the shelves
The smell of old books
The only tales left to tell
No matter how many come in
There’s always room for more
You’ll never feel alone-
In fact, it’s better than before.
Welcome to the Empire
The unfailingly unflawed place to be
But look closely and you will find
Often everything is not as you see.