Where tiny creatures dance,
There used to be a special bench,
And upon the bench rested a troll.
The troll was a kindly thing,
It would tend to the garden,
It would care for the animals,
And because of this the troll was much loved.
Wandering into the garden one day,
Came a small girl,
With curled blonde hair,
Bouncing in ringlets,
As she skipped about.
Being such a kind troll,
He reached out to the child and revealed in his hand a beautiful butterfly.
The little girl loved the butterfly,
She chased it and watched it fly around,
Eventually the butterfly flew back into the trolls hand,
Tucked itself in,
And transformed into his thumb.
The curious child smiled.
As the sun began to set,
The troll decided to retire,
He stretched out and yawned,
He burst into countless butterflies.
She chased them and watched them fly around,
Eventually she caught one of the butterflies in her hand,
She wanted to keep it all to herself,
She dashed home,
And placed the butterfly into a large glass jar.
She went to bed,
And the night came and went.
In the morning she rushed back to the garden,
Eager to meet the troll again,
When she got there she found him crying,
He was not very well.
As she peered around to see what was the matter,
She noticed he was missing an eye.
He was blind in one eye.
It was gone,
The troll continued to weep,
He could not tend to the garden,
He could not care for the creatures.
The little girl realised the problem,
She remembered his thumb,
And how the butterfly transformed,
She remembered that she had caught a butterfly.
And so once again she hurried home,
She ran to the jar,
Opened it up,
Reached inside for the butterfly.
It would not move,
It just sat in her hand,
The little girl cradled the dead butterfly in her hands,
She begged for it to wake up,
But it was too late.