Fireflies.

They are flies born out
Fresh new rains, of today,
Flying around the fire
we lit to ward of the cold,
Brough by the rain.
They flew against the small
Gail tha blew acroos the bushes,
Which gnawed at the rain drops,
Stopped a few hours back.

They flew and flew round
The flames of the fire,
Taking in the heat the fire made,
And danced like butterflies,
Failing to bring the grace,
To fall into the fire, making
Small sparkles and sound,
Living a very short life,
And again ascended to heavens.

Ravikiran Arakkal.

poem by Ravikiran Arakkal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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