Fireflies.
#acrostic {M} istaken, I must be.
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#acrostic {M} istaken, I must be.
Paper wings, a sequence of disguise. Springs rainbow of delight, multi-coloured surprise. Resting on the blossomed, fluttering through rays of light. A peacuful existance, brightening up days plight.
I can see a billion Luna moths, with five inch wings, beating against the hourglass. Gathering statistics feverishly. Surrounded by phantoms of their past, their ancestors tucked in between moonbeams.
Silver wings, Laced with blue. Fluttering in the breeze, Fresh and new. Gold specks, Traced around. Flying high, Without a sound. Made to fly, With its shiny wing. Butterfly fly, Breathe, sing.
Frantic in its flutter, White on its wings. Clinging to the clover, Thistles and other things. Smelling sweet shrubs, Loving it's little larva. Ringing the red roses.
#youngwritershousehold Fly away, Butterfly, On this day, You must die. Trapped in a spider's web, Or insect catcher's net, Drowning in a paddling pool, Your wings getting so wet.
#household - Lightbulb You draw me to you, With a force I can't ignore. Your beauty transfixes me And leaves me wanting more. I try to fight this urge, To keep myself away.
You spin a web, Of silver thread, And taunt me as- I go to bed... You inspire fear, Despite your size, Smother in cobwebs, The bugs and flies.