My spark, my light
said the little lightning bug,
waking at twilight
to enter the dark.
My spark, my light
yawned the little lightning bug,
against this blackness
her form was stark.
/
My spark, my light
sang the little lightning bug,
as she whizzed through
the silver forests of Wren.
My spark, my light
chanted the little lightning bug,
determined to convince
it must be said.
/
My spark, my light
uttered the little lightning bug,
as she blinked her pattern
into the night.
My spark, my light
voiced the little lightning bug,
letting everyone see
and fighting the fright.
/
My spark, my light
stated the little lightning bug,
as she found the edge
of the shimmering lake.
My spark, my light
intoned the little lightning bug,
this light was her own
and no mistake.
/
My spark, my light
yelled the little lightning bug,
calling through the distance
across the heather.
My spark, my light
asked the little lightning bug,
to friends who dance their purpose
no matter the weather.
/
Our spark, our light
answered the little lightning bugs,
as they rose to meet each other
with palpable glee.
Our spark, our light
recited the little lightning bugs,
as their tiny bodies twinkled
in harmony.
About the Creator
Bugsy Watts
Got bit by the writing bug.
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/bugsywattspoetry/
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Wishing on Paper Planes
I am only as good as the people in the room. I hate that. I will not lift you out of your funk. I will not supply laughter where there is none. I will not be the one to bring the light with me if you want to wallow in darkness. I am only as good as the people in the room. But I want to be better. I wish I laughed more easily. I wish I had dreams. Then I could make plans to get to them. I wish I recalled memories filled with joy when I reminisced, imagining everything my life could be, content with what it is. I wish I threw paper planes with the future scrawled in their folds and competed to see just how far I would go. I wish I could watch the rise and fall of my journey, inhaling and exhaling the way the love of my life breathes deeply in sleep right next to me. The way I imagine he would. And I wish I didn’t wish to be free of loneliness by picturing a fictional you at my side. I wish I found freedom in the single me that I am and balanced myself on a seesaw by having the courage to stand at its fulcrum. I wish I didn’t wither at every unexpected turn but found myself walking on tightropes and falling from airplanes and landing in a pile of adrenaline on mountaintops that kiss the clouds. I wonder if the scale would tip too far if I jumped into the pool before I knew how to swim. But I am still here instead of where I could be. What do the paper planes say? Learn to be free of the people in the room.
By Bugsy Watts3 months ago in Poets
Comments (1)
Ah, love the way this ended. Beautiful. Full circle.