In the evening heat, we sit on the porch
watching fireflies light up here and there and
here again down in the yard. We pass the bottle
back and forth as we settle
into the lethargy that overtakes us now at dusk.
Years ago, when our children were small, they
would run around chasing fireflies, putting
them in bottles. Strange to think about
those times, before masks, before social
distancing. When
family gatherings were not on Zoom and
we were together in the yard, sitting
at tables laughing and playing
cards. Passing the babies
from lap to lap.
As real dark sets in,the fireflies
disappear high
into the trees. I go inside and
set the porridge for
breakfast.
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Crazy poem!
Passing the bottle?
Nite time porridge!
Those were the days!
KOKO
gem!
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With this prompt I had to use certain words. bottle and porridge were two of them. And hey, here I am at 4:13 eating my porridge! Although in this poem she was prepping for morning.
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