The fireflies

Climate Change Contest: Silver

The little boy I babysit
Says he's never seen a firefly,
That they're like dragons or zombies or waltzing flowers
And only exist in dreams.

When I explain to him how fireflies
Flicker like old candles
He laughs his little head off
Before he falls asleep.

He will never be carried
By a father, after midnight,
Out to his backyard to see
The stars that came alive.

He will never wish to
Release one from a bottle
And let it flash goodbye
As he stands on moonlit grass.

The little boy has seen pictures 
Of dried and preserved fireflies –
They're labeled next to dinosaurs,
Of things he'll never meet.

The little boy I babysit,
He won't miss the fireflies,
Because he has only ever known them
In the stories that I tell.