The Little Elf

A bubbly toddler of five,

Wanted to fly, and dive,

Had dreams of climbing mountains,

And dancing under the cascades and fountains,

To catch fireflies in the Himalayan jungles,

And snowboard the icy terrains at all angles,

To run after the sounds of the gushing rivulets,

And touch the white trails of the flying jets,

To jump on the muddy puddles,

To ride a bicycle without paddles,

To pluck fruits from the neighbor's farm,

And climbing the conifer trees risking breaking a leg or an arm,

In the darkest nights, to face the wolf's howls,

And sit with the bats and owls,

He wanted to fulfill every single fantasy,

And feel life in its true ecstasy,

But he is crippled, and cannot walk,

Still tries to catch a butterfly,

And falls in the attempt,

Lying on the floor helpless,

Still dreaming of the fantasies,

Till his parents arrive,

And frantically took him back,

To the wheelchair,

Reprimanding him loudly,

To not try this act again,

And the little boy breaks down,

Tears falling down his hazel eyes,

Only to fall asleep,

To a world of his own fantasies again.