I remember dragonflies and fireflies,
dancing jewels against a backdrop of magnificent commonplace things.
A small pond of green water, frogs no bigger than my thumbnail,
and dragonflies, iridescent in the sun,
flying gems that show how black really does contain all colors.
Twilight, that hint that eyes have their place but ears, oh ears,
sound has richness too, richness that spills over into feeling
like scent spills into memory.
I remember catching fireflies when I was younger,
chasing little stars come to visit.
Sometimes I’d make a wish.
And I remember, deeper than thought or knowing,
that you were there, always there, even when you were elsewhere.
Sound spills into feeling, scent spills into memory,
but touch spills into belief.
You believe in me.
I believe in you.
And in dragonflies.

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