I woke up in a room

That reached far into shadow

And up as high I could know

But it was no scary tomb


Books lined every wall

Shelves stuffed full of them

The colors of a thousand pens

As deep as I am tall


Warmth rushed over me

Filled me up to the depths so deep

And into me I let it seep

Though from where it came I couldn’t see


Out of the dark an old man came

His presence strong

His smile beaming kind and long

And I swear he knew my shame


See, though I was a writer too

My book would not be found

Among these treasures, carefully bound

This I knew was true


There were too many in this place

By authors great and famous

Enough to speak to each of us

A work for every taste


I had come to realize some time ago

That I would not be heard

There was no place for my small words

No scene in this grand show


But this man looked at me as if he knew

And took my hand in his

His voice was warm, and spoke just this:

There is room here for you too.