One evening at twilight,
so many years ago,
I was almost to the edge of the forest,
I spotted this butterfly.
He was flying all over the place,
this way and that,

it seemed to be having trouble.
What a wayward little creature,
I thought to myself.
You would think he would know how to fly.
Then just as suddenly, he ran right into me.
Turns out he wasn't a butterfly at all,
but a woodland faery.
More of a wayward faery
by the way he took to flight.
As it turned out,
the poor wee faery had got caught
in a terrible storm
and the wind had carried him far from his home
and his wing had gotten damaged along the way.
He was trying to fly, but the damaged wing
made him fly, kind of,
well he sure wasnt very good at it.
I asked him if I could help.
He could come home with me and rest
until his wing would heal.
He said he would like to very much,
he certainly wasn't getting very far
with his damaged wing.
I asked him what I should call him,
he told me his name was Holt.
So I put Holt on my shoulder,
and off we went.

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