The Boringbug

In the light of the day,
in the chirping wind,
the dark alleys glow
in the warmth of a firefly

Noble souls surround me
laden in bed, surrounded
by dreams of heaven;

I reckon, the day it may not
the light may still be,
for stood surrounded we were
in the dancing hallways;
as melody travelled through the air.

A wind of nostalgia hit upon
the festival of light,
seven seas apart
stood a family awaiting

In the light of the day,
as the dark alleys glowed
in the warmth of a firefly
I felt the chirping wind.

(c)boringbug

*** for the writer in all of us ***