Fuzzy and Flossy

The attic was a dusty spot
At every end some stuff
A lot of stored, forgotten rot
A place where life was tough

But in the dark and gloomy air
There lived a pair of moths
Inside a cupboard’s winter wear
Of fine and tasty cloth

One fuzzy fellow chewed a sleeve
A favorite food of his
A plus size suit with special weave
A treat he could not miss

He gnawed a gapping, venting hole
Into an underarm
And thought reshaping was his goal
– No wrong and little harm

He crawled on up into the nape
Champed all he could consume
Romped to the right to find some space
But found there wasn’t room

“Hey this is my suit,” said a voice
– Another flossy friend
And found complains against the choice
Of Fuzzy’s meal intents

“My folks have lived for generations
Upon these woolen sleeves
So you must go and change location
You stinky, dumpy thief”

The Fuzzy moth in fury found
“My holes are bigger though”
And firmly stood his battleground
In answer to the foe

He bit the wool with all his power
And munched quite manner-less
His rightful luncheon to devour
In drool filled woolen mess

The Flossy fellow thought the same
And nipped into the nape
His name at stake, he found the game
Was all that he could take

So there they chewed their habitat
Until they were quite stuffed
A light desert to fight the fat
A silken dress they loved

The Fuzzy fellow spread his wings
And flopped unto the dress
Declared himself the moths’ king
And recommenced the mess.

The days went by and life was good
The moths were round as balls
They played their game and gorged their food
Until one day in fall

Then suddenly a door creaked loud
A lady took the suit
She saw the holes and gave a shout
“A moth has made it food”

She shook the suit and then the dress
The moths fell, full and fat
They couldn’t move – but what a mess
The lady’s shoe came – splat!

And so the lady took a towel
And cleaned the dirty floor
Of flattened fauna, stinking foul
Then shut the attic door.