I've always wondered
what
it is they do
When the tired day of the moogle
is
through
Do they have families?
Close or distant friends?
With
So many questions this poem
will never end!
I especially
like at Christmas time
To sit and think
What if moogles did all
the work
That brings such Christmas joy,
All around the world
to every
girl and boy.
They live in mansions; huge
workshops
Listening to the snaps and pops
Of machinery making
toys, games and
the like.
The bang out ornaments
Pom-pom
shaped
In all different colors
Blue, purple, and grape
Making
each one unique and great.
And when Christmas is over
they
pack all their things
Go back to their shops to make
keyblades,
anklets, and rings
I guess it's fine to work behind
the
scenes.
After all the life of a moogle isn't
as fun as it
seems.