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Fireworks
BOOM.
a puff of purple powder stains the pewter sky.
i sit, listening
to the whirring and fizzling
of the firey starlit, glistening
when the midnight clock strikes nigh.
a red light joins in the heavens high,
shimmering
and with a crisp, cool whistling
a tune as musical, magical as fiddling
that steals away breaths by and by.
when all is said and done,
and the burns in my retinas fade
when these make-believe stars no longer masquerade
little embers are here and there laid
riddled around, each like a tiny, broken sun.
when the conjunction has ceased to be fun
and each person begins to wade
through darkness thick and blood stained,
the embers are left to rot in misery made,
and the sky is left wondering in silence we spun.
Copyright ©
Quinn McGinty
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