Pulled into warmth, drawn in by light,
a flickering flame grew into sight,
and, weak and pale - what could I do? -
near to its heart I quickly flew.
I fluttered close, close to the flame,
my tender wings flapped without shame,
then in a heartbeat, in a flash,
my tender wings turned into ash.
Oh fragile moths with strong desire:
don't fly too close; don't play with fire.
A flame. It flickers wild and free;
it dances wild, invitingly.
I see its shadow on the wall,
and there is mine; we rise and fall
into each other's upward flight,
and down we sink in gay delight.
I zig between its zags and it
enjoys to see me so well lit.
Oh, dance and leap within the flame;
play with its sparks; enjoy the game.