Three short lines give us one small scene: a moth has settled inside a rose that is cold, and it seems to be sleeping there. The speaker doesn't say much about their own feelings, and that restraint is part of the effect. They simply look closely and report what they see, with a quiet, gentle tenderness.
The title, "Interloper," adds a twist. An interloper is someone who doesn't belong, yet the moth looks entirely at home, curled up as if the flower were a bed. The word may hint that the speaker feels a little like the intruder, peering in on something private. Or it may playfully suggest the moth has taken over the rose.
The word "cold" matters too. It suggests early morning or a chilly night, and it makes the moth's rest feel a bit fragile. The mood is hushed, still and delicate, like noticing something you're afraid to disturb.