Its little white wings Flutter softly against The black window pane Attracted by the light A shade of bright Against the dark Its warm wings hit the cold Flapping against the Wide, wet, window Painlessly, its little white legs scurry Quietly against the black window Attracted by the dew A place of warmth against the cold Silently it stops A dot upon my window Barely visible yet I cannot tear my eyes away from The little white moth So happy on my dark window Pane.