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Standing near an old, lonely porch light,
On a cool, late summer night.
When something flew by my face,
I immediately knew what was the case.
Butterflies and moths were dancing around,
The ones commonly seen in town.
I watched them flitter and flutter,
But, did I shutter?
No, I did not; I was puzzled as you might say,
Because I wondered, 'Why they danced that way? '
They spun and twirled in waltz,
Me, facisnated, I could not help but watch.
Did the best they could with all their might,
Around that old, lonely porch light.