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ALLISON AND THE THREE ELVES

Once upon a time, a talented young girl called Allison
Wandered through a dense and scary forest.
She passed a cottage which said on the
Door, occupied by 3 elves, she often imagined
That her poetic inspiration and thought pool,
Came from elves that
Lived in a Peter Pan world, and where 
Her thoughts also, were always to be found.
She smelled an aroma of something delicious,
Wafting her way, it tickled her fancy, a pot
Was brewing on a small coal stove.
Allison was almost sure she smelt lavender, wild duck,
Poppies, and a sprinkle of magic dust!
She popped her head through an open window,
No one was home, so she opened
The door and went in!
She lifted the lid of the pot, and instantly
Steam and cloudy forms
Emerged and began forming
Words and poetic phrases which 
Drifted towards a table and chair, where enticingly
Lay a note book and pen, she was immediately inspired!
The first page of the note book was wrinkled and grubby, 
And the second she smudged, but the third was just right,
So after trying out each of the three pens, she found
The most vibrantly colored one, fitted her tiny  
Hand perfectly, and she wrote down all her thoughts.
She saw a roaring fireplace and three rugs, 
The third rug was the coziest
As the other two looked uncomfortable,
She lay down, and fell fast asleep!
When the elves returned, their impish ears and eyes,
Quickly became attuned to the young girls presence,
And her brilliant thoughts!
Someone was here, they could sense it!
Allison was her name,
And writing poetry was her game!
Allison had written in their 
Note book, with one of their pens,
All her wonderful ideas, and had wasted two pages of their
Precious note book, and unwanted, she had thrown  
Them on the Floor,
Behind their front door!
Look said the youngest elf, someone is sleeping on my rug, 
Not either of yours, for mine is the coziest!
They really looked naughty and slightly wicked as Allison
Woke up!
Terrified, she ran out of the house but did not forget
To pick up the precious notebook,
With her rampant ideas that she had written down,
Which had floated as fluffy clouds, out of the pot
Left brewing on the coal stove!
She had a dream that night that angry elves were chasing
Her, but she awoke to the tantalizing smell of
A pot that her mom had put on to boil
To make chicken soup – Allison run down the stairs and
Hugged her mom,
Careful mommy she said, you might find poetic words
That rise in clouds within the steam from this pot!
Her mother looked puzzled,
But only Allison would ever know!
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