yet i never did believe in the accumulation of shiny things

and how they brought you joy.

what happened to playing outside in the mud,

half naked, chasing each other around

with the song of breeze and the pounce of summer?

may love and love be with you,

and may your talents and riches do you good.

but if you ever wish to find me,

i’ll still be here, running after a pretty beetle and

dreaming of that night when we

danced at the edge of the rooftop alone,

to the music of fireflies.