Moth

Georgia rain shower,

taptap like a million knuckles knocking,

synchronizing with the

thudbeat

of my heart.

I think in that breath of breeze

there was a sigh

even as it kissed my cheek:

cool air and sweet salvation there

to redeem the reddened, blush-burned skin.

You left a stamp of warmth,

and by the flames I am singed.

But every flickered glance

was worth the pain of glory.