This is a story of a black dragonfly
Sometime before July,
When I was lifted by tiny arms,
Carried by an insect’s charms
Into the forest’s heart,
And left alone to fall apart.
I apologise, for that was mean –
That story isn’t true, or ever had been
I lied for your attention
I’m a tale-teller, did I not mention?
I know I’m silly, but I felt your tension
Sorry I’ll start now, If I can remember how,
But a problem: how does the story begin?
I’ll start with a big grin
Or maybe a glass of gin,
Look how impatient you grow,
Wait a moment, no.
Oh I remember, right, here we go:
It was a sunny day
In the month before May,
When a new friend
One of a different trend,
Perched on my shoulder
Like a small, tired soldier
A long body with a small head,
His delicate limbs, soft to tread
My heart smiled and went light,
For my eyes had never seen such a sight,
Of a beautiful black dragonfly
Dark, with a silver glimmer
An insects body, but thinner
Matched with loving eyes
I could tell he held no disguise,
He wasn’t colourful nor bright,
He even held scars from a previous flight,
Yet he was different. Alone
That of a unique monotone
He chose to sit with me
Despite being fruitful and free
He chose me.
Swimming in the quiet river,
Sunlight on the surface with a shimmer
I ducked and I took a dive,
So he soared and oh did he fly!
Off to the wild tree-tops,
Water fell from my hands in drops
As I waved good-bye,
To the sweetest little guy
A new friend, that dragonfly.
I glanced at my empty shoulder
And felt the water go a bit colder,
But it was cooling and nice
Because as I have told you now twice,
It was a sunny day,
In the month before May.
I do miss that little guy, that lovely black dragonfly.