the brightest firefly
I'm falling in love with Copeland (a band). And this is part of the reason why:
And I just know that she warms my heart
And knows what all my imperfections are
And she says that I am the brightest little firefly in her jar
I pretty much love fireflies (and hate when others call them lightning bugs). Of course, a firefly is way more magical than a lightning bug. I have three memories associated with fireflies and here they are in order of most recent:
12/31/04, Kissimmee, FL - Sitting around the camp fire as Philip and Amy tried their luck at jumping over the flames, I sat silenced by the beauty of the sparks that flickered up from the fire. They looked like tiny fireflies and I sat staring at them, wishing that they were.
Summer '04, Wilmore, KY - Sitting outside with wet cats while reading hidden info on Peter Pan in Ryan's backyard, fireflies flickered on and off. I love them.
Sometime during childhood, Marietta, GA - Running around at dusk in my grandmother's backyard, I collected the magical fireflies with my mother's assistance. They reminded me of a Glow Worm (which I never had, but nearly all my friends did). I was happy that I had the real thing: a jar filled with fireflies.
So, given my attraction to the magical things, it's no wonder that I have grown particularly fond of Copeland's song "Brightest". The sweetest, most magical metaphor I've heard thus far of someone's object of affection is the brightest little firefly in [the] jar. Seriously, I love it.
And I just know that she warms my heart
And knows what all my imperfections are
And she says that I am the brightest little firefly in her jar
I pretty much love fireflies (and hate when others call them lightning bugs). Of course, a firefly is way more magical than a lightning bug. I have three memories associated with fireflies and here they are in order of most recent:
12/31/04, Kissimmee, FL - Sitting around the camp fire as Philip and Amy tried their luck at jumping over the flames, I sat silenced by the beauty of the sparks that flickered up from the fire. They looked like tiny fireflies and I sat staring at them, wishing that they were.
Summer '04, Wilmore, KY - Sitting outside with wet cats while reading hidden info on Peter Pan in Ryan's backyard, fireflies flickered on and off. I love them.
Sometime during childhood, Marietta, GA - Running around at dusk in my grandmother's backyard, I collected the magical fireflies with my mother's assistance. They reminded me of a Glow Worm (which I never had, but nearly all my friends did). I was happy that I had the real thing: a jar filled with fireflies.
So, given my attraction to the magical things, it's no wonder that I have grown particularly fond of Copeland's song "Brightest". The sweetest, most magical metaphor I've heard thus far of someone's object of affection is the brightest little firefly in [the] jar. Seriously, I love it.
posted by alisa beth at 9:34 PM
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