Ode to Leggy Leggie-Poo
O Legolas,
Greenleaf of Mirkwood
(Sounds Canadian),
And elf of the fair hair
(Righteous follicles?),
I pledge my heart to you.
Fingering your pale flaxen hair,
I mistakenly think you might be using L'Oréal,
('Cause you're worth it)
But obviously,
Being so in touch with Nature,
And moss, and water, and all,
(Where's the central heating in Lothlórien?)
You'd go with Clairol Hydrience.
Those shapely legs in
Curve-hugging tights of forest green;
Seems more Peter Pan
Than fashionable elf of Mirky hinterland
(Ok, now it sounds Scandinavian);
We all realize
That they're for seducing Aragorn.
Looking into those eyes of blue vibrancy,
(Almost typed "virility",
But you can't blame me,
Since everyone wants to bear
Your pointy-eared children)
And my gaze raking that yellow hairline
(Always with the hair),
I wonder:
They went through the trouble of
Making a wig and buying you contacts,
But not the trouble
Of changing your eyebrows?
Movies.
Knowing all those plot points –
"Aragorn, son of Arathorn!"
"Heir to the throne of Gondor!"
(Keeping close tabs
On a certain Ranger, are we?)
"Crebain from Dunland!"
"A fell voice on the air!"
"Goblins!"
"Orcs!"
And so on;
You must be more powerful than the Grey Wizard,
Or at least, Peter Jackson.
O Legolas,
Greenleaf of Mirkwood
(You sure you're not from BC?),
I pledge my heart to you
Because I can't live without you;
Although technically, I can't live without
Continually circulating blood either.