The Shoemaker's Elves

The shoemaker had to tell the elves

That he was no longer

Making shoes

It occurred to him

Late one morning

While drinking his orange juice

That if elves have to help you

With your wares

It might say something

About how effective you are

As a businessman

And so, the shoemaker

Wrote a note

And left it out one night

Telling the elves

That while he appreciated

All they had done for him

The days of shoes were over

And now he would be

Dedicating his life

To writing riddles

For bridge trolls

The elves found the note

And suddenly
They had the whole night

To do whatever they wished

That first free night

They played music

And danced around

The abandoned

Shoemaker’s shop

But after a week of that

They grew bored

And ventured out

Into the tiny town

The shoemaker had left behind him

There they found mothers

Who needed companionship

As they stayed up

With their crying babies

They found bakers

Rising well before the sun

To begin the baking of bread

They found all sorts of people

Who needed a variety of things

And so the elves

Were there to help

A year passed

Where they made themselves useful

And then the townspeople

Got together

And made a decision

They met the elves

In the village square

That night

And told them

That they were no longer needed

The elves were very sad

But the mother

Who they had been staying up with

Stepped forward and told them

That not being needed

Didn’t mean they weren’t wanted

‘You’re our friends,’ she said,

‘And you do not need to do things

For us in order to be in our lives’

The elves did not know

What to make of this

They had only ever been useful

And the idea of being loved

For who they were

Rather than what they could do

Was something

They had never considered

The town soon turned

The shoemaker’s old shop

Into a hotel and retirement community

For elves of all shapes, sizes, and ages

Who needed a rest

There the elves could do as they wished

And when they got bored

They enjoyed the boredom

Or they went to visit

Some of their friends in town

But if they were seen

Trying to assist someone

They were asked

If that was something

They really wanted to do

Or something they felt

They had to do

And no matter what they decided

They were welcome

And adored by all

One night, the shoemaker

Having grown old himself

And all finished with his second career

As a riddle-writer

Approached his old shop

And when he looked through the windows

He saw dozens of elves

Sleeping soundly in tiny little beds

Placed lovingly on shelves

All throughout the shop

The shoemaker smiled to himself

And sighed, relieved

Well, he said to himself,

That’s what

I was hoping for

And he moved on

Allowing the elves

To have a good

Night’s

Sleep