Mothballs

Even though you can fly,

For some reason I,

Must ask you why,

You’re hitching a ride in my car.

I wish I had wings

And could do all the things

That flying can bring

But alas, my ‘wings’ are sub-par.

The thing about flying

And I am not lying

It involves more than just jumping and trying.

I’ve learned that much so far.

Even moths must come down

And rest on the ground

And eat what they’ve found

Looking for something to mar.

They have enough guile

To hide for a while

Nibbling my clothes with a smile

Hence mothballs dispensed from a jar.

Didn’t Jesus warn

Not to store up in barns

Where moths and rust eat things you adorn?

At least they left my guitar.

I think I now know

Why butterflies show

A better way to live and to go.

They never leave even a scar.

Butterflies are free

Are beautiful to see

And don’t eat or bother even me.

Moths however are quite bizarre.

7-24-23