(I) Untitled

a spark of gold
against a navy sky.
“hello, little one”,
says the firefly.
grinning and grasping
only to find
he’s already gone.
“farewell, goodbye”

 

(II) the answer is in the asking

i once asked

of the firefly

why is it you burn

bright as a distant sun?

her response

was a brief gold spark,

to capture your hearts;

tell me, how have i done?