Fireflies

I didn’t understand things like I do now.
I was a thinker even way back then.
My mind worked more than my little mouth did.
Imagination was reality.
To me, speckled-winged birds flew in airplanes.
Eight years of life was a long time to live.
Fireflies lit up from swift shooting stars.
The moon was just a short distance away.
One summer day equaled a child’s lifetime.
Where’d it go? I guess I don’t understand