The Littlest Elf Poem by John Kipling Lewis

Alone in the lush green
forest sits the littlest elf,
smiling broadly as the golden sun
rises on the fluffy white rabbits
that frolic across the moss covered
log of a long lived, but fallen tree.

Encumbered by a relatively large
pain au raison, he examines it
with glee.

He licks his fingers of the last
bits of confection and laughs as
he thinks of the day ahead.

Surely he will dance by the deep
blue brook, play hide and seek with
his elfin friends and take a sleepy
afternoon nap in the farmer's
wheat field.

His breakfast finished and his
morning planned he skips happily
back home to change from his sleeping
smock into colourful spring day clothes.