Dancing To The Music of Fireflies

Sometimes only once in a lifetime

Sound of gravel crunching
On a lonely country lane
Then parking neath an ol’ Oak Tree

Radio softly playing
An ol’ George Jones song
Of broken hearts and misery

The hypnotic rise,
before one’s eyes
That only fireflies can bring

The swirling sigh
of hormone’s tide
The intoxicating smell of spring

The night slips by
The moon hangs high
honey locust blossoms scent the air

My hands cradle your head
I bury my face
in the musky perfume of your hair

Your lips to  mine
Our legs and arms entwined
Our bodies start to sway

And we slow dance…
To the music of fireflies
…Until the light of day…

Reviews

[Stacey Watts]

This is a very beautiful piece of work. I like the gentle flow and the imagery you created here. Nicely done.