The Dying Dragonfly

The dying dragonfly
Didn't have a memory
Or it would see
The lovely old days
That it spent away
Cozily, on velvety petals
Chatting in a lilting buzz
Laughing and drinking
The sweet nectar
That the flowery friends
Offered in their palms

The dying dragonfly
Now flew inside
To the artificial light.
White and bright,
A cheap imitation
Of the almighty.
Buzzing frantically
Breathing the rainy air
For the last time.
And suddenly weightless,
It falls down.