A stories passed on overtime,
Mama found a good old dwarf.
His nose was point and sharp,
And he calls out mom by playing a harp.

It goes on and on until late teens,
Before the dwarf was forgotten.

His voice sings a visayan song,
That calms the lake and mystery.
He lives across the mango tree.
And often times his out and free.

He was never heard since,
One of her childhood memory.

Probably, he only connects to young hearts,
With magical thoughts,
My mom lost it all after teens.
And so her little friends was never seen.

So is she.
.
.
.
Writer: M.E. Flores
Hour14, Text Prompt14