dpbian_art

Fireflies are coming out, Lightening up the grass. Erasing all your fancy doubts, Leaving your mind crass. Camp fire burning high, Under the vessel; lid at side, Scrumptious smell passes by, Now your taste buds wanna glide. Had the supper in a gossip, You never reckon how time flies on. Ice cold whip; sticks on your lip, And you’ll never know it’s con. Camp fire slowly going off, Making the night intense. Glittering darkness stars in sky, Mesmerizing your sense. Goes off with sudden smoke, Feel the peace and the breeze. Clean air your lungs won’t choke, Smell the grass and the trees. Relish radiating red warm wood, Like cheeks of little girl who’s shy. Sounds of crickets sets your mood, Listen the hymn; feel the rhythm and let your soul fly. -dpbian                                            "Firefly" "The Lit Grass"