Little gnome king,
and little gnome queen,
looked out the window and saw Tuppett cling,
to a toadstool, by the tree, by the swingset near the river
by the firefly’s cave nearest the towering rock that constantly quivered.
Eyes wide and excited, little gnome queen squeaked and she squealed,
“he’s a crazy old muppet, and he’ll surely be feeling
a little more aggravated from such prolonged kneeling.”
Then little gnome king looked up to the ceiling,
his long white hairs wound around his fingers as his mind was kept reeling.
And he hummed, and he hawed before he looked back outside;
his spectacles sliding down his nose, which he daintily removed and set aside.
“We’ve got to reason with him, and I don’t think he’s crazy;
but he’s probably upset from all the impish gnome hazing.
We’ve got to talk to Thump and Stickle, and Rubblin, too;
they have to stop treating him like he’ll stick back together with glue.”
So little gnome king exited through the front doors,
and little gnome queen pleaded for him to at least first finish chores.
But he left her there to beg, and with chin held high,
his hands swinging jovially as they aligned with his thighs.
He kept his steps even and with a merry twinkle in his gentle blue eyes,
he walked gallantly towards Tuppett, who looked like he had been criminalized.
There was reason to make peace with this creature who was terrible at disguise,
so peace he would work to make, despite his small size.
To be continued…