The elf’s dwelling is something to witness
It has its tiny windows and small doors
But more than that, it has a miniscule kitchen
A child’s tale has spilled into the real world

The crafted tables and chairs highlight
The woodworking merit of the little man
The gleeful paint and the beautiful flowers
Capture my eyes and occupy my thoughts

The windows are left slightly ajar
To allow some cool wind to enter
Outside, the starlings provide a nighttime
Concert to all who are willing to listen

My legs, paralyzed by the tight ropes, can’t move
But I can feel the tight cloth enclosing my mouth
Delicate cotton pillows caress my pink cheeks
But my hands remain wound with green vines

I admire the furniture and gawk at the wallpaper
Imprisoned and suffocated, pleasure is long gone
The pumpkin candles give light to each crevice
And my captor cooks to stuff me for the festival