When it came like a yellowed flower
which I found in between my old diary,
it had a gentle touch.
It did not know what I wrote on those blank pages
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It flipped its wings like I flipped through the pages
When it will be gone I shall still write and shall still flip
the rattling old pages.
The moth breathed the letters of yesterday and it could have
sensed the letters of tomorrow had it been there on the pages for
sometime more
For, it is a visitor who took flight
with my letters clipped in its wings
Where did it fly to?
It got lost in the thin air,
my letters forever shall feel it was close and near
It has flown afar
for it, the pages of my diary are still ajar.
