Like a Moth

Like a moth to the flame,

The amber glow drew her.

And those who knew her,

Know she is not to blame.

She was left dangling on the edge;

A cliffhanger of suspense. 

Therefore, it just made sense 

To let go of that ledge. 

To surrender to the pull 

Of the inviting night light, 

That provides much-needed sight;

Breaking both darkness and rule. 

Book in hand, she slips from the bed,

Leaving sleep behind for a bit. 

She trades smooth sheets for rough carpet, 

Swapping dreams for narratives instead. 

Crouched next to a bulb in the wall, 

She departs from her bedroom

For a world where stories consume, 

Until she hears a noise from the hall. 

Drifting through a cracked door,

A whisper calls her back 

To the sleep she does lack.

And she leaps from her spot on the floor.

“I’ll be back, dear friends. But until then, 

I’ll see you in my dreams.”

Her sleepy face beams,

Closing book and eyelids once again.

Books, bulbs, and decades later, 

Those same eyelids open to find

A childhood passion redesigned.

She is now the hallway spectator.

Pulling books from sleeping hands;

Whispering “one more page, sister”

Or “lights out right now, mister,”

With a smile that understands. 

We are all moths seeking the flame.

Drawn to the great adventure, 

Into great words, we venture. 

By the light, we are never the same.

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