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The star-crossed moth
The moth, trapped within the
lamp's glow
danced madly hot, but instinct drew him on,
ricocheted to have another go,
reached the bulb, but couldn't quite hold on.
Frenzied now, excited by the prospect
slow death awaited any soul returning,
but blind by love of light could not resist,
illuminated by his love died burning.
Heroic, slipping to the ground descended,
a victim to the tragic love he bore,
his futile quest was brilliantly ended,
Ah! Romeo himself could do no more.
by Stephen Hirons
Read the story behind this poem
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