Fireflies

His eyes are beautiful, and they remind me of fireflies. It was like he ran through an open field of grass that was just littered with fireflies, and he ran so fast that they got stuck in his pupils, captured forever in a jar. Now when he blinks, they flutter, and I can hear their wings beating against the glass sides of their enclosure.
I can remember that night vividly. When we tip toed out to the open field behind my house with hand fulls of mason jars. Our hearts were beating with anticipation as we approached the field that glittered with straying fireflies. We ran as fast as we could, capturing them in small jars, watching them lazily float about within them. I watched his free legs scan the grassy surface as he chased after mischievous bugs that seem to do the impossible by lighting up. That was when I first noticed his eyes.
I watched his eyes follow a firefly up to the top of the jar and land upside down, creating a luminous haze on his face. His eyes were curious, as he watched bugs fluctuate in dimming glows. For a moment, I stopped doing what I was doing. I listened as unpretentious fireflies quivered densely in mason jars under a star lit sky. The tips of his fingers left fogging prints on the glossy sides of the jars.
His eyes blinked and paper-thin wings joined once more, scratching together like sandpaper. I watched his eyes change color as the lights shifted positions in the darkness, performing a show of magnificence. Amber and sepia danced together around his widening pupils as his eyes finally met mine. I wanted to be a part of this night forever, because I knew we were in love. And because we were in love, things were that more beautiful than they were before.

By: Brandi Deacon
2009