In a tree, not far from me, lives many tiny pixies.
They are small, and no where near the height of a bathroom stall.
In their tree they whisper and chatter, but none of them bothering to tell me the matter.
If only I knew, what they did and what they do, I would be able to gladly tell you.
I wish I could see, what they do in their tree, but I do not, so for my writing, I shall stop.
For no one has any business sticking their nose, into places they do not know, like the tree near me, with many tiny pixies.
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