holding childhood

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The Mason jar
sits clear and old
on the front step beyond the door,
its collar lost;

the punctured lid rests
on the rough cement
having let all the fireflies
free nights before;

it sits empty
but for the curves of dried grass;
clear and old it sits,
the wonderment of childhood it holds.

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One response »

  1. Ahhh…the jars of fireflies are so much a part of childhood!!! Lovely piece and execution…I love the detail of the lost collar! So enjoyable to read once again!!!

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