Oh, aged, fluttering Friend,
Your short, lovely life is about to end.
Perched upon my window sill,
Your lethargy reveals you are ill.
You linger and you long,
Not quite finished with your song.
When your life is almost over,
Why aren’t you dancing above the clover?
Instead, you visit me for one last glance.
My window–your funeral. Our last chance.
When humans are old and losing the world,
We sit and stare at Universe unfurled.
But you, my friend, stare back at me,
Waiting for Heaven to finally be free.
Did you have children? Did you find grace?
Did you ever find your very own space?
Thank you for spending your last minutes here.
I embrace your brave absence of fear.
Float on up. Flying is done.
Your winged race? Too-soon run.
Based on a story my husband just shared from work last night. I made the dragonfly in Photoshop from scanned ink textures and filter effects.