The Moth

I made friends with a moth, and she told me to write a poem.

So I said to her,
As she fluttered through my window,
Her peanut butter and grace,
Still fresh from the starry night sky,
“Hello miss velvet shadow stalker,
It must be a nice night to fly”

And she might tell me,
A story she’d told a thousand times,
One still shrouded in silence,
Within the frantic beating of her,
silk and peanut butter wing,
Though in soft winds she'd purr.