Fireflies

Fireflies dance around the night sky,
flashing like diamonds on a velvety black cloth
on the jewelers table,
magnified by his powerful light,

but then fireflies blink and flicker,
rather than glistening and glitter,

like the words which poured from your tongue,
the words which sparkled in my mind,
the words which took up residence in my vault,
and these words,
like fireflies shut up in a little boy’s jar,

fade,
losing their fierce fire,

minute by agonizing minute,
hour by hour,
until their final flash
fades to utter darkness.

 

Seen

On a blanket, in between two oak trees,
near the far edge of the park,
a distance off the walking path,
lay two lovers,

side by side,

nestled close like turtle doves,
not cowering or hiding,
but tucked safely away,
out of sight to those hurrying along
or burdened by other cares,

but not so out of sight,
as to be hidden or concealed,
clearly visible to those who cared
to stop or pause and look,

but not preening like a peacock,
strutting around announced by his plumage

and yet when the sun light
burst through the clouds,
highlighting that very spot
between the trees,
as if to say,

stop,

witness,

this is pleasure, if only because it is celebrated
when seen.

 

You can go to Elisa Phillips' blog at: http://elisa111.vox.com/