A Dwarf, A Well

Down a stone and stolen well
through water’s tunnels seen
again, a little man with orange hair
sits quietly and bites his nails.

He’s thinking of that princess who,
in time’s of old,
in dream’s of new,
sat staring in his beady eyes.

Her golden dress with flowers blue
and perfect ruby lips adorned.
She must have thought the well
enchanted, dwarfs in wells
no longer happen.

He offers her a little book,
she scarcely has a chance to look
before she sees her own reflection
raven hair returned.

His haunted sleep her image kept
and all he wants starts without this
drip, drip, drip oh why this old well
mutters curses as an older brother.

And if you look inside this well,
Elizabeth or Mary Bell
your raven hair or blood-stained lips
may remind him of this tale.

Be careful for he’s angry now
those small instructions lost in time.
He will demand his little book,
or simply tell his princess, “Look.”