A single drop hanging high.
Within reach
of your view,
you cautiously buzz near.

You fly beneath,
the drop looming,
almost suspended
as if waiting to attack.
As you fly
in the direction of your happy, uninterrupted life,
it falls.
It hits your chest
and you stumble
mid-air.
The drop was large and overwhelming,
unexpected and concerning.
But you make it to the next day
with a happy, yet fuzzy buzz.

Multiple drops
suddenly descend all at once;
an inevitable barrier
to the rest of your life.
You try to dodge,
and I watch from a corner.
I don’t know how to help
a poor dragonfly like you,
so I wait
for the drops to subside and retreat.
But the drops increase;
raining down
as if purposefully targeting you.
They fall and hit
and fall and hit
and fall and hit
Until you fall with them,
overpowered and conquered.
Gone.

I see more dragonflies on sunny days
but they are not you.
So I weep
over you
and the abundance of dragonflies
who will never be you.