The Mushroom House

deep within the forest,
beneath thick trees,
awaits the mushroom house.

its door hasn’t been opened,
and the flowers haven’t been tended
in a very long time.
dust is thick and gritty
in the teapot and cups.
the woolen curtains are drawn tightly
to keep out the cold,
and the fireplace is dry
and empty.

but it waits.

it waits patiently for
the faeries to come.

it waits for long-lost hugs,
and pealing laughter
to fill the wooden,
herb filled rafters.

for fresh purple flowers
to be planted in aged pots,
and copper bells tinkling
from swinging wind chimes.
for the door to be swung wide open
and the settled cobwebs to be swept away.
for the stone fireplace to be lit
and used tea bags to be
strewn about
on tables and saucers.

it waits.

will you come in?