Like a Moth

Did she dream his Mesmer gaze
As he bent to taste her wrist
A touch so fine, so delicate
Her body trembled to be kissed

(Behind closed lash a memory stirs
A remembered glimpse of pain
Wings, frantic flutter ‘gainst the globe
Again, again, and again)

It was long ago; can she recall?
How she yearned to feel his bite  
But he comes no more and she’s left 
Lost and hidden in the night

(Again the dream; much clearer now
She is sure she feels its pain
Wings battered, broken ‘gainst the glass
It still battles the campaign)

Was it real, that last sunrise
Heated sunlight licked her skin
The dappled light upon her brow
Dew-drenched dress against her shin

(Will it be as in the dream?
Will she wake before the pain?
And like the moth drawn to the flame
Will the fire be her bane?)

Sunrise breaks, she fights the sleep
Dawn gold pours in, oblique
Then birdsong fills the empty hall            
‘Tis this magic that she’ll seek

(Now the moths of memory
Are eaten by the fire.
These centuries are all consumed
Burned away by her desire)

And if he comes for her at last 
He will truly come in vain 
For nothing’s left but ghostly light
And a dusty, blackened stain.

By N. T. Green ©