poetry texts, poem archive at plagiarist.com

The gold moth did not love him
So, gorgeous, she flew away.
But the gray moth circled the flame
       Until the break of day.
And then, with wings like a dead desire,
She fell, fire-caught, into the flame.


Anonymous submission.

Added: 2 Apr 2003 | Last Read: 7 Sep 2008 7:40 AM | Viewed: 8359 times

PoetryNotes™ Analysis

A custom PoetryNotes™ eBook may be ordered for this poem. Get help with your homework - delivered in 5-6 days.

For more information...