Posted in Poetry

grave of the fireflies

I remember when they were happy,

I remember when they were lonely.

When only two of them left, there

I saw the light glowing and growing

in the silence of darkness of night

Frolicking in the twinkling starlight

Becoming two fireflies on the grave.

Author:

I write stuff of my interest that does not interest anyone in my blog. No grammarians, no copy editors, no marketers, no cynics are welcome.

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