INNOCENSE OF FIREWORKS
Adult days keep rolling faster.
We attribute this to aging,
but it’s routine, firm as plaster,
that induces each years fading.
Adult responsibility
eliminates most mystery.
We don’t absorb what happens next
when we’ve memorized each day’s text.
But there is the joy of fireworks,
those spontaneous dreamworks,
where our free inner child still lurks
and adult brains forego their works.
We find awe, glee and excitement
are not feelings left behind us.
Vibrant bursts grow our amazement,
color pops our gushing gazement.
The joy in all we do not know
(what follows next, when will it end),
gives grown senses a childlike glow
and then, oh yes, then, time does bend.
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