the night lanterns

[billy]

i bloody like this bugger. [is it prose, i don't see any poetic devices at play of worth, but it doesn't stop me liking it]
i think you could trim it down a little and add a device or two, some alliteration maybe and a dab of consonance. even an odd simile or metaphor, anything to lift it a little higher. at present it's sweet and a good read. wit just a small edit you can turn it into a really good poem. [don't forget about a few poetic devices.]

 

the night lanterns

She’d started collecting fireflies, when did she start? would it be easier to say [She collected.....]
their dried, lightless husks
filling up old mason jars; would filled work better than filling. i like the start a lot. i thought the poem was going to be about nature, the 3rd stanza allowed me to see the light
 
she refused to throw them out
even after they’d lost their glow.
 
I never knew Mama to be afraid of the dark
but she said so one day when I asked
why she kept them. i like how this makes me think mamas also have weakness
 
The jars still sit on her windowsill,
clean and empty of husks,
a vanilla tea light candle inside each one now.
 
I’ve lit them every night since she passed;
people ask me why, but I don’t answer.
They don’t need to know that I’m afraid of the dark. i enjoyed the end and the connection between mum and child. i also like how the jars feel like some kind of alter for her.