Author’s Note

Sometimes, the heart knows exactly what it wants to say, but the rest of us haven’t quite figured out how to say it.

This poem begins with a dream, but it’s really about the feelings that can surface when someone occupies a particularly tender place in our thoughts. That nervousness, the stumbling over words, the fluttering heart—those familiar sensations become something more when the dream gives us a moment we might not otherwise experience.

I wanted to play with the familiar expression of having butterflies in your stomach, but take it somewhere a little different. Butterflies and moths both flutter, but they aren’t quite the same. In this poem, the butterflies represent that initial excitement, while the moths represent something more deliberate: a creature drawn toward the light it loves.

And that light becomes the person at the center of the poem.

There’s something beautiful, but also a little dangerous, about being drawn to a flame. It can warm you, illuminate your surroundings, and give you somewhere to gather. It can also singe your wings. I wanted to leave both possibilities in the imagery rather than pretend devotion is always without vulnerability.

The ending isn’t simply about losing the ability to fly. It’s about imagining a kind of closeness where flight becomes less important than having somewhere you want to rest.

Perhaps that’s the most vulnerable part of this poem: not just wanting to follow someone’s light, but wanting to stay beside it.

Sometimes, even the most confident poet becomes a stuttering mess when the heart gets involved.

— Rowan Evans

Moths for the Flame (A Flutter for the Flame)
Poetry by Rowan Evans

I had a dream last night—
a line I’ve written a time or two,
but last night was different—
I dreamed specifically about you.

I looked in your eyes
and I got nervous—
stomach was in knots,
tongue locked and I
started st-st-stuttering—
heart was fl-fl-fluttering.

It was the best
and worst feeling—
I was floating
high up by the ceiling—

butterflies in the chest,
moths in the stomach—
one flutters just because,
the other flutters for the light they love—

and you are the flame I will follow—
the light I want to dance beside
until the day I die and expire,
until my wings are singed
and no longer carry—
until I’m ground bound,
resting by your flame.

Journey into the Hexverse

If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]