Paul Willason Poet Free verse

Simile for The Last Survivor

Dull autumn day.
An exhausted 
white cabbage moth,
probably the last survivor 
of the season,
settles on a yellow leaf. 
There is a sadness
in its solitude.
Yet pity is paused 
when it causes
me to suddenly think 
of a dob of whipped cream 
on a custard tart 
accompanied 
by a cappuccino 
at the local cafe.

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sara Etgen-Baker May 20, 2026 at 5:22 PM oh, how quickly we can turn from the faceof pity. Nicely done.

Laurentine G May 14, 2026 at 9:16 AM Can't help but smile when reading this one Paul! I recall you are much less sentimental about creatures than I am, but the balance seems fair in this one :) as long as the reverse doesn't occur should you go and purchase a custard tart (my favourite by the way, I even wrote a poem about them on here!) and experience the moth's revenge :)