A lone moth flits around my front porch light
as wind blows through my window, luring me
to step outside into black velvet’s night.
I search the sky, but no moon can I see.
It seems it’s disappeared, just like my love.
The moaning wind plays havoc with my hair
as that old bulb sways crazily above.
In solitude, I simply stand and stare
at that fool insect! How can it not know
the falseness of the light that it’s drawn to?
Fluorescent doom replaces moon’s sweet glow.
I know this well because in losing you
I lost love’s gleam; I lost my everything,
and still that silly moth is fluttering. . .