Songs of a Trickster

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A little boy crouched in a chair
In a shadow of a corner,
Sneering at his toy resting on the bed,
The toy is a doll wearing a mischievous smile,
Said to be the spawn of Loki
The doll, named Rufus found it’s home
With a boy, who had no malice
That is, until Rufus sang songs of a spell
Bringing tornadoes of a boy and his doll
Into the kitchen, where fruit splatted
And juice splashed onto cleanliness,
Into the dining room, where fine dishes
Whistled louder than when they were whole,
Every part of the house was under attack,
But while the boy sat punished
For their dirty deeds,
Rufus smiled wider, thinking
Of more devilish acts they should do,
The wicked mind of Rufus spun,
Feeding ideas to the boy
Who was getting so rebellious
That his parents, fell ill,
But the boy swore that it wasn’t him,
Threw blame upon Rufus,
Who laid there, quietly
Laughing to himself, but showing grin,
The boy was to be sent away
As his parents got weaker,
To a home of lost, far from warmth,
The boy peeked around, scared to find
Rufus, coming to sing more spells.

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