Clasped in her hands
are the secrets she keeps.
Fireflies captured mid flight-
at midnight, she creeps.
Their sparkle, their sight
now restricted, air tight.
She hides them away,
Reassured they are not showing. Passerbys look
Yet no one can see them glowing.
Insects as new pets.
A hoarder, she collects.
A private sinful stash of consealed facts,
stowed away like getaway cash.
They cry out and weep,
locked up inside deep.
Begging to be released
But she closes her eyes and goes to sleep.