In the glade, on the Knott, is where I saw you last,
This very spot as where you are today,
Dancing and flitting to dodge the cast,
Feels though I’ve never been away.
Twenty, but must be more, more, more,
Hiding, feeding, fighting, flapping and fluttering about,
From here you look black, but I know your not,
You’re a sight for sore eyes, without any doubt….