The moth flaps round the dusty shade
His grey/brown wings fully displayed
Causing flecks of dust to cascade
As it flys towards the light
The spider lurks in her web home
Waiting patiently alone
For a single fly to roam
To feed her through the night
The rat curls up in the corner
Finding some shelter to warm her
Moving silently like a mourner
Or a nervous little lost pup
The grime and filth quite unhealthy
Is everywhere that I can see
And one thought always drives through me
I really should tidy up
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem