A moth drawn to the flame,
A flicker in the dark,
A heady combination,
A teasing, taunting spark.
A flutter of its browny wings,
The candle starts to ebb,
Settle please, before it's dark,
Else there's the lure of web.
Antennae slowly probing,
The moth is drawn to light,
It's been this way for hours now,
Should settle for the night.
A spider watches, smiling,
Knowing there's a chance,
That if this moth does flutter still,
That it can join the dance.
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