An elf on the shelf is thinking to himself


One book, two books,

are standing on the shelf.

Three books, four books,

he’s thinking to himself.

Five books, six books,

all written in small text.

Seven, eight books,

what book shall he read next?

What about number nine?

What about number ten?

What beautiful story

should thou be making thine?

What about the captain

and the road to glory?

Or what about the boy

that flew down from the stars?

What of the old princess

and her lost golden toy?

Or the witch without scars

whose name you’d never guess?

So many lovely tales

to wrap around thy head,

so many small details

deserving to be said;

he knew it all so well

yet but as the sun set

he muttered to himself:

“It is not good to dwell

on what’s already set”,

and lightened the old shelf.


You’ve heard of elf on the shelf,

now prepare for twelve m in the poem.

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