Lila the Small
An epic poem
by E.M.
Listen now as I tell you a tale,
Of a girl who lived in the city
of Dale,
Her name was Lila, who was an elf,
About half the size of yourself,
One day she was in the forge,
When a man named George,
Faster than a pluck of a string
on a lyre,
She dashed out the oak door only
to be met by fiery flame,
And many a men that had been
slain,
But some survived and took flight,
To escape the hells delight,
But some were left behind,
So she ran into the flames senses
blind,
Lila heard the weeping of a child,
Surrounded by fire so wild,
“Please! Someone help me! I am
above!”,
Lila scurried up a beam she did
push and shove,
A little boy out from under a stove,
And two other children ran and
dove,
Under the cover of Lila’s arm,
To protect their trembling bodies
from harm,
Running out carrying the three,
In one arm she did flee,
From the breath of the devil,
Barely escaping the building as
it became level,
A hero that she became,
But a person all the same,
When she saved three lives,
She met her own demise,
In the city of Dale,
Many a fold still morn and wale,
Over the death of Lila the small,
Who was only half your height
tall.
