Over the smoky mountain they all await
Under the hazy moon they are all waiting
A firefly is snuffed out in a mason jar
Clutched tight in an innocent child’s hands
Ah, but don’t you know, wild things must
Remain wild, or else they go corrupt
A fairy turning into an imp overnight
Without the canopy of the sky to soothe it
I read that in a book once.
All the streetlights turn on at the exact same time
The streetlights all turn on at the exact same time
A black bird swoops across my vision towards the trees
It’s white-striped wings look like lunar moths flickering
Flickering, flickering, under the dying breath of a rose
They crane their heads towards the setting sun for the last time
They do not know the sun will still be there the next morning
After all, how do you know that it will come again once it leaves
There is a phobia called missed opportunities but I can’t remember the name
I’ve missed so many opportunities but I must not have the phobia
Or else I wouldn’t continue to miss them, day after day
I never learn but I do I am learning day by day
It is exhausting to learn all the nuances of the world
The world is a big place so it is lucky I like to learn
In the next life I will be born a billionaire in a mansion that reaches the sky
It will be so high up that I can see the curve of the Earth
It will be so high up that I know the sun will return
And then I will go sit in my garden and write
And what a life that would be.