May beetle

I wrote a draft for this back when I was in my hometown. I saw a may beetle fly around and it reminded me of childhood and how we used to catch and release may beetles during May and June.

In smog filled sky,
Buzzes a may beetle.
Honey colored wings like memories,
Powerful yet brittle.

On my palm so free,
My fingers form no net.
Unaware of it's inferiority,
Is it really the bug I'm looking at?

I look again
Its wings reflect images of childhood
From my teary eye

As it flies off the memory shatters.
I do not hold a grudge,
I've long since given up on the past.

Author's Note

Critiques are welcome.