Fireflies try
And, so do I
To simply fly
And not ask why
Of the days we get stepped on
Of our glow from dusk to dawn
Should our days feel underground
Should the answers stay unfound
Fireflies know
And, so do I
Our wings and light
Will end the night
The movie house has shut its doors
The Nepalese cafe burned down
Some ocean somewhere lost its salt
Some mountain range fell to the ground
Our schoolhouse — just a memory
Our hometown, your address belies
Just you, just me, but never we
Just why won’t time become goodbye
Our finest hourI know and You know
You’ve not a conscious conscience
I’ve not a strong will
Today promised me nothing
Fine, because it provoked me bright and early
I sit prostituted
In awe of how I permitted
This practice of us
I don’t doubt you
Having
My vintage resale shop painting
Blue and flowers, of course
You see just me
Hanging
Your wall facing North, due North
Pining or laughing, or both
I am sick from the sky
Its lies
And its beauty from which they escape
I’ve grown weary of wind
Its smiles
And the rarity of its southern charm
Even the insect
Green, excited and nervous
Is most poetic
As he lands firmly
Near to me, one thing he knows
My poetic prose
Such gorgeous ramblings
Have we, he'll spout, grammar-less
Need-less, filter-less
Hallowed. Unhallowed.
Echoes unheard.
All the chasing. All the fleeing.
Hearts unmoved.
Under this roof. Within these hearts.
Lives entwined.
Careful words. Cherish the skin.
Beings enthralled.
I miss bad judgment
I miss the sin
I want to put on
That old coat again
This straight and narrow
Feels far too wrong
I miss the lightning
Come thunder’s song
LisaRosier.com 