Fireflies © Martin Kerr 2005
Thinking back on warm Virginia nights,
Waltzing with my cell phone on the porch…
First time I’d seen fireflies and their tail-lights,
And love that glowed… but wouldn’t scorch.
This tired and lonely troubadour had no songs left to sing,
But you said I’d be giving you a ring.
Girl, you’re not from England, your rings aren’t on the phone,
You meant you’d be making me your own.
Calgary in autumn, orange sky.
A drunken beggar’s venom made me cry.
You took me by the arm into the sun,
Breathed away my fears and I was won.
Do you still recall the song that played as we embraced?
I’m still savoring the taste
Of your hair on my open lips, an angel’s pheromone.
I knew you were making me your own.
That night you sat beside me on the floor.
You told me things you thought you’d never say.
I breathed in as I’d never breathed before
And said “I fell in love with you today”.
Though we didn’t oversleep, I somehow missed my plane
And I held you on the hillside in the rain.
I kissed your sweater up and down, and felt in every bone
What you said you’d always known:
I was always going to be your own.