Elfin folk play pat-a-cake,
a tradition passed down
from small hands to small hands.
Passing time with elfin rhyme
sing-a-song of sixpence
and used as a self-defense,
they play. They never stray
from their merriment,
these scary men of minuscule means.
Caught in a blur, an inky stain
where the stinky little buggers
fester. They are sequestered
in their hovel homes,
pat-a-caking til the cows come.
(C) Walter J. Wojtanik – 2017