Z: My name is Moth

White mouse,
which wields a cinderella whip
calling on to blue ball-dressed dancers.
Behind a tree, Puck delicately eats a daisy,
petal by petal,
and I feel like
Peaseblossom, Mustardseed, Cobweb and
(what's the other one called?)
all rolled up together.
There lies [my] love,
curled asleep still in the late hours of morning,
but then, methought I was enamoured of an...
I whisper from where I straddle the ceiling
in a summer-filled midnight dream state.
And still wish I could play Hermia
because last time I was too tall
and inexperienced.