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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
My first experiment with nifty-spacing type stuff. It's a rather nostalgic poem, reminiscing about not at all distant youth. The title draws from a line in the poem, from the brilliant but fleeting lives of fireflies, and from the idea of beautiful, brilliant things that drift effortlessly through life, shining brightly for a moment and then seeming to disappear at daybreak. They don't really have fireflies in the city.

Submitted: April 09, 2007

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Submitted: April 09, 2007




Ah, the things that we did.
We were odd, weren't we...?

but that was their problem.

We did not, could not take ourselves seriously.
We laughed tumultuously at the angst our generation held so dear,
Cried, wrote and drew fueled by the same angst that we openly mocked,
Hypocrites, all.

We sang in the blustery downtown streets,
Danced in empty subway cars.
We were joyous and free, without shame,
Clinging to each other as summers ended,
  Each Fall bringing us closer to the inevitable end
Of our play, the time of tearful farewell to
The ones we loved.

And oh, how we loved...
We loved by hating
Loved by loving,
Scrawled  anything that would fit on scraps of paper
Then cherished and kept secret.

Oh yes, how we loved.
And lived
We lived by love, seeking approval,
Attention, comfort, beauty in love.
We held hands when no one was looking,
Reveled in furtive smiles fromacross quiet  
Rooms buzzing with youthful energy
But this was enough for us to be happy, for
We were made important by our affections.

We tried. We tried so hard,
Envying those whose beauty seemed to
Come without any sort of effort,
Overlooking our own subtle loveliness.

We dramatized our lives, each molehill automatically assuming
Mountainous proportions.
Loud and brazen, we

But sometimes we were silent...
Floating through life as sweetly and softly as incense smoke--
Or our own memories--
 Smoldering, ready to burst at any second
With an irepressible wave of
noise and activity.
We thrived off each other's company.
Ah, what we did.
Still do. We confuse future with past far too easily now.
We forget we still are these people,
Still are these young, beautiful
Rays of light, dancing in no particular direction.
Fireflies, blundering through sweet smelling smoke,
Making necessary mistakes
Our laughter and tears floating on the wind
Echoing through the warm city streets.

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