Dwarves

Sonnet

The wind is a colored face amongst the faceless faces
Who sees not the Gust he has portrayed by the look of peoples laces
Unlike these minion dwarves the wind keeps blowing long
Some believe napalm him like our fellow Vietcong

For thou is the way the book has been read for many a year
To us a minion dwarf he is just another of our nearest fear
Where has the white rose been picked on top of that far hill
Until we find the secret whose shoes will it fill?

The wind sits on top of us waiting for the smoke to clear
The rain does what it can to stop this maddening cheer
The white rose has been lost over the hill it goes
Minion dwarves on trial pleading this it is not what I chose

At last it comes to the end when all is said and done
The question is will you stand up and let them have all the fun