Oh, little moth, your primordial flight.
has brought you to my well lite home tonight.
Lepidopteron, master of the night,
fly quickly to the light of my kitchen,'
sit on my table, dry and preen your wings.
Your vision moth, of this nocturnal moon,
that sits upon my kitchen table bright,
leaves in question lepidopteron sight.
As you can see, this moon was made for me,
so fly up to my iridescent light.
I must admit, your flight is quite a sight,
turning, twisting fluttering as you fly.
Up to the moon in my clean ceiling tall,
or in the doorway of my well lighted hall.
Oh, must you leave? Our visit was too short!
You must forgive, my hospitality,
as I swat you off of my ceiling clean
with only this treated papyrus leave.
what is this black mush you leave,
upon my well lite clean ceiling?
Next time mind your manners!
Oh, little fly........