1 poem

by Carolina Larracilla

The Woodlands High School

fireflies

there’s little stars in the bushes
tiny glowing specks of glitter
trapped in our hands.

there’s little lights in our eyes
a tiny bit of the children we used to be
still trapped in ourselves.

where I’m from, they don’t have fireflies.

the cobbled pathways aren’t sheltered
by leafy giants covered with
milk white magnolia crowns.

the sun doesn’t set like a fairy tale ball
with girls in their gowns
dancing well past dark.

the mornings don’t stick to you
so heavily but they stick with you
always, a spell you can’t seem to forget.

and the children don’t run around
catching fireflies and wearing fairy wings.