I met a little elf,
Just the other day,
I met him by the BlueOak tree,
As I went out to play,
At first he was a little scared,
A little worried I might say,
By this loud and lumbering boy,
Who had come out to play.
He expressed a deep concern,
That I might tread upon his flowers,
Pluck them, sniff them,
And throw them all away!
Flowers are things of love,
Plants are all alive,
Even Grass should be respected.
Were the things he had to say.
And further more he said to me,
That if the little folk approved of me,
An I approved of them,
Then aged I would never be.
Then with a flick, a pop and a poof,
He hopped around the BlueOak tree,
And was gone.