I will become a firefly.

I will dance between your

fingers and then fly away

into the distance.

Perhaps I will be back tomorrow.

Perhaps I will wander forever.

I will build myself  a nest among the stars

with branches from the sycamore tree.

I will feed myself honeydew

and the juices will run down my chest

and puddle in my lap,

staining my white, lace dress.

I will compose a song

from whispers, winks, and wind chimes,

and I will hum it to myself

as I journey across the night,

towards sunrise.

I will become a firefly,

and I will be remembered, not by name,

but by the color of my light.



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