Wearing tigers stripes
Like fashion is on my side
I’ve no hope, really

The undergrowth of your long days
Tower above me
Like arrogant reminders of your worth

But trees grow everywhere
With oblivious oblivion
Their lost memories soaked into the past

Damp soil meets conviction and dreams
Until saturated, and then
Nothing but caricatures of nature

Let sleeping lions lie
Sitting in the dappled shade
Watch them pounce

Like wild cats on a chase
For the best seats
But the worst company.

When I was five, and you were eight
You took my hand and said, "come with me"
Over the stile and on the floor, lay a pile of slate
Forgotten.

Together we built a little slate village
For non-existent people to do non-existent things
And within that architecture of simple stone,
We built our sibling dreams

Parallel to you who finds comfort in the light,
I find peace where you flutter, in the depths of night.

You’re chased and swatted and hurtled outside,
I do hope you can find somewhere bright to hide.

For my darkness is my contentment, peaceful, serene
My mind falls absent, happily empty of the obscene.

Does the darkness outside, fill you with trouble and worry
Like the impending rising sun sets my mind a flurry?

Oh wise old moth, please stay as long as you need,
My bedside lamp can be your refuge, no need to plead.

You don’t have to tell me why you’re here, or open up to me,
Cause your presence here alone is a pleasure to see.

In twenty-four hours you’ll be looking for new lights to borrow
But please remember, wise moth,

I’ll be awake and lonely again tomorrow.