Fire Flies In the Night

Tiny prancing little things lighting up the clear deep night,
not stars and not a flash light.
But living breathing creatchers in the pale moon lit sky.
Sparking to a rhythm of which only their dances can remark.
Humming by my ear inviting me to the ball that has no end,
the party of living lanterns that lasts an eternity.

As the night drags on,
the small dancing pixies just keep going along.
Humming a rhythm then lighting it twice,
gliding along without another soul in sight.
Joyfully drifting over gentle waters,
sliding next to there twins of water and ripples from the chill of wind.

Then the first glimpse of sun unshield from the far off land and horizon.
Their fragile wings begin to give,
falling deeper in to a sleepy flight.
Lights go flashing this way and that,
no longer in sinc with the hums that were once so content.
They float back to the hallow and sleep while the ribbon like rays of gold and white are out in the day,
and come back to full life in the twilight.
These are the Fire flies of the night that you cannot dream to wish away.