Musings

it's never dark enough
the sun lingers with
a long goodbye, clings
to the horizon like a child

the fireflies are
yellow-green and lethargic
(lightning bugs, not lightning strikes;
a thousand wrong words
to light up the night)

a reflection in the window;
it might be the moon,
but it isn't- just a streetlight

when I close my eyes, I see stars;
open, I breathe air gone stale,
like breadcrumbs and dreams.
their shelf life is immeasurable,
maybe. I never think to check
for the expiration date.

--
Just ramblings, as the title suggests: half complete thoughts. The lack of capital letters is artsy, not an indication of laziness. (No, really. Would I lie?)