Firefly

 

The sky is now an intense colour palette

 

You capture the clouds and float in a glass jar,

you open pages after pages,

they store maple leaves

and create an archipelago of fictional islands.

 

The night opens its wings,

picks slivers of echoes in an abandoned fort,

stars dance on the ghost’s shoes,

catching those dark songs from the storm wind.

 

On the hour, every hour

you put abstracts into the dialogue,

a balance between line and form in the

the rice paper and water colour,

 

Fireflies shine around the factory chimney.

 

©gopallahiri

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