Sweet Firefly

You are gone,
but in my dreams.
I watch you dancing barefoot
across the dewing grass,
with one of grandma's jam jars.
You are catching fireflies.
Your sweet laughter ripples
as you add each golden
bug to the jar.
My laughter joins yours
and I reach out to
hug you.
The dream fades too quickly,
taking my breath away.
The tears come streaming
down my face as I realize
you are still dead.
The morning sun
falls upon the dusty jar
still sitting on a shelf
beside my bed.
Later I will take those jars
and fill them with fireflies.
I will pretend you are dancing
beside me once again
My Sweet Firefly,
Do they have fireflies in heaven?

Imagination had to write a poem about dying and fireflies