A flock of baby love bugs
Or something more sinister
They haven’t their orange parts yet
Fly slow, so I know you won’t sting me
Fly low, so I know that you’re with me
When the wind blows, you don’t have to steer
When the wind chimes, you don’t have to hear
Oh how I used to pull you apart!
Sparkling breath, you’re already shiny on the inside
Sun beams breaking through cloudy skies
I always give birth when I’m about to die.