top of page

sharon - shivi dixit

I found a little white moth

sitting on my window sill.

It was slow as a sloth

and sat seriously still.

He was looking outside the window

probably contemplating life,

thinking of the good ol’ meadow

and his long lost wife.

Concluding, he longed for solitude,

I left him hanging there.

When I came back to the latitude,

he was to be seen nowhere.

He might’ve flown back home,

that’s my hunch.

But he could’ve also landed on a gnome

and become a bird’s brunch.


bottom of page