Soon it will be daybreak and you’ll have to keep posted a little longer
while the rest of the lightning bugs go back to hiding and knit their own
dreams. You have to travel a long way to where I lived, opposite to the
city, the flower patch near the timberland. As a perfume maker, I must
say, “Smell the fragrance of a garden’s freshness.” This scent taken from
my body stored in glass bottles will always remind you of me wherever
you go.

You even can place a label, clip to my feet: a winged beetle who can’t
show “flashes of love” in the twilight.  No glowing bug I am… unequipped
with bioluminescence. And so when darkness sweeps, my memory brings
back of  how you accidentally hit my head. “Please be on guard” sternly I
said. But as soon as I turned around, words failed me, for I was confronted
with a face that had a thousands subjects. I mumbled silently to pass the
blame to my friend who brought me to this night ball. This ball in one of
the many balls, a commoner never forgets.

For it has been written long, long ago, that fireflies, nature’s miniature light
bulbs are only predestined to their own kind. So if you and I hem in life’s
interest, how will I see myself on the other side when I have been a morning
fly? Tell me firefly sage, I must know why?