A moth fluttered in, confused by the yellow unforgiving incandescent light.
It was seeking the moon.
The girl cupped him in sweaty hands and met him,
Eye-to-eye.
“Good Evening, Monsieur Moth.”
Dusty wings rubbed gently in reply.
Such furry knees he had!
Such beady eyes!
His delicate antennae were quivering in fright.
She kissed him softly and released him to the night.
The moth fluttered out, but sought no more the moon. For he had
Fallen in love with the girl.
Now it was her gracefully bowed head that drew him,
Like a flame.
His antennae trembled not with fear,
But with a soaring joy he could not name.
What gentle hands she’d had!
What sweet soft breath!
The moth remembered warm red ruby lips
And in a kind of ecstasy relived her kiss.
He thrust his battered body time and time again against the cold unyielding windowpane.
The girl did not look up.
She was lost within in her book and could not spare him
Even a glance.
Outside her dear devoted moth
Gave a frantic loving panicked fervent dance.
Oh how he fought the pane
That barred him from his love!
The world was washed in moonlight as he thumped against the glass.
He grew weaker as the night wore on and finally fell to rest on cool dew-covered grass. [pre][/pre]
(I'm having a whole lot of trouble with the title. Any ideas?)
=D> \:D/ :whistle:
