Fireflies

The first time I saw fireflies was magical.
A warm summer evening
Not hot not cold
Just right, Goldilocks might say.

I walked down the leafy path,
Invisible gravel crunching,
Hidden, as light and dark fought,
Though dark was clearly the victor.

I saw them in the grass,
An imaginary flicker of the mind,
Then a slowly dawning reality
as light pushed back the dark.
For Now.
Little sparkles drawing spirals in the dusk,
my little fairyland.

But the spell faded the closer I stepped,
Like a mirage, treasured only from afar.
Ephemeral.
Beautiful only in the transition.
So for now I‘ll content myself as the image fades to black,
Waiting for a new sunset,
Waiting for my fireflies.