Fireflies
that is what I think of
when I think of our lives.
A magical dance
on a late summer evening
and all too brief.
How I weep
for the children of Mars
who heedless
trap the sparks in jars
or squish them with sticks.
They marvel at their power
over the fragile creatures
yet miss
the transcendent miracles
of the flickering lights
of life.
YOU ARE READING
Sentinel
PoetryA collection of thoughts, poetic and otherwise, related to feeling different. Not quite fitting in. Loneliness. Depression. Alienation. [Note: I will be moving some similarly themed, previously published items, into this collection.]
