By Ishaan.
Strolling down the garden trail,
Tracing the descending summer dusk;
I spotted tiny, twinkly lights,
Dot the near horizon. Like-
The milky way itself,
had descended from the yonder gaze.
And with it, bought a wave,
Of nostalgic reminisce of bygone days.
For once, these fluttering flickers,
Danced away every summer night,
Like a million fairies, out-
On a moonlit date.
I yearned to reach out, but,
I remember my neighbour’s endless admonition,
To let these little beings be. For-
Their death brings bad omen.
So I did, and in awed silence,
We watched. As they-
Drifted into the porch,
Wandered, explored and escaped.
The delicate balance of the wild,
And civilized, left untampered.
Yet, I seldom recall,
Watching these fireflies fade. But-
Nor do I remember the chatter,
Of sparrows, die down.
Yet, now that I notice,
It’s been a while, since-
I’ve seen them around.
Then again, I barely even recollect,
My beloved neighbour moving away.
Maybe that’s the thing about change.
It’s far too subtle to be felt,
Until it’s too late.
Libëranté. 