“…i feel like a moth and you are an irresistible bonfire, and i hardly know you…”
Moth
A winged sunset flutters, drawn
toward the lamp behind me.
Addled by errant desire
it bumps my knee,
leaves a smudge of moonlight.
Recovering, the moth drunkenly swoons toward the glow
again
heavy-winged and awkward,
a novice angel.
Now stained glass before the light
it feather-drums the lampshade,
insistent
delirious with longing.
Copyright (c) Anne Yohn2003. All rights reserved.
November 27th, 2007 at 10:02 pm
did someone make this declaration to you?
November 28th, 2007 at 1:24 pm
uh huh
November 28th, 2007 at 2:47 pm
that’s quite an attraction (not surprising given the recipient) – is it the person who attacked your feet of clay?
November 28th, 2007 at 7:55 pm
yep