The Dragonfly

Two souls bound by a wire divide,

One within shadows, one in light's stride,

Separated by fate's cruel decree,

Yet tethered by hope and the desire to be free.

So each night, on withered parchment he writes,

Secrets about the world outside,

And binds it to a cotton string,

Awaiting his messenger to arrive in flight.

The dragonfly’s wings glisten in twilight’s veil,

Fluttering above shadows of suffering, hidden truths cinched to its tail,

And alights in her palm, so intimate, so true,

And once again with a new whisper it flew.