I remember last night
With a sunset sky
Pink
Lilac
Baby blues and glimmering golds
I wanted to see you today
But I couldn't
Not really
I remember last night
When we talked until the streetlights turned on
When I put little white daisies in your hair
And you smiled for me
I wanted to do that tonight
But I couldn't
Sadly
I remember last night
When we sat by the creek
And caught fireflies
Flickering in the dimming light
Like little neon stars
I wanted to do that tonight
But I couldn't
And it hurt

I caught fireflies
Alone last night
Even though
You were right across the street
When the streetlights
Turned on
You were still gone
And I caught
Fireflies
Alone

Books are like the sun’s rays,
Still giving off fingertip warmth,
Though long cut off from the source.

Books are sunlight and Greek silence
Captured in glass firefly jars.

I was born in California,
but haven't been there since
So...have I ever really been?

When I was little, I took a trip to Mexico
But I don't remember one bit
So...does that even count?

Three years ago, I wrote down on my bucket list:
One day I want to see a firefly
I want to see it shine
And not just one, but hundreds
I want to see a whole swarm, delicate as fairies
Off on their mission to warn the world,
Nighttime has arrived

Two years ago, my mother found it and said to me:
What are you talking about,
Fireflies?
Why you and your brothers used to fly with them all the time
You would get a jar, probably one we called Mason even if it wasn't
And you would lock them up inside, prisoners
A type of Stockholm syndrome, where the captors are captivated by the captees

At that moment, I could have erased seeing fireflies from my bucket list and my dreams,
But I didn't
Because that little girl with the jar has lost herself,
and to find herself again... she MUST see a firefly