Bouquet of Fireflies

Bouquet of fireflies
Selling quick my tongue 
Precarious matters 
Quick to be gone 

Let us not dally 
Nor exchange such a glance
For I must tend to my mind
You must tend to your hands
Nervous and still-stale 
I straighten quite well
In the September air 
I pale for church bells

I let slip a few humble verses 
I did not tend well
To give you some phrase
That I would not dare tell
The bouquet of fireflies 
You handed me unknown
My heart whippets to emerge from tough chicanes made of chains 
Released those foul snippets of what has hit home

Let us not dally
Nor stand in this alley 
For I might have professed love of a woman
For the sake of bouquet I have unknowing 
Been subject to force they call love 
Subject to the matter I let slip from my tongue