There you are my little moth
With wings fluttering like white tattered cloth,
Whenever I flip on my porch light
You appear, from the darkness of the night.
When at night I open my front door
My house seemingly you need to explore,
But, I don't mind it at all when you fly in
Oh, little creature without any sin.
To ever do you harm I will not
As you I have many times gently and carefully caught,
You seemed so lost and just trying to go home
The nights you no longer want to roam.
You flutter lost about my window and wall
I will catch you even though you are very small,
I will then once again re-release you back outside
You are a form of a heavenly guide.
My mother once told me with tears in her eyes
That moths were really lost angels in disguise,
So, when anyone anywhere turns on a light
The moth believes, once again they're in God's sight.
Randy L. McClave
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem