and the dog creeps under thr piano stool.

Missing the faded beauty of Autumn
we look for more colours as we step
into the murky mists of November.

Duffle-coated aginst the cold, we watch
the burning effigy of the man
whose memory is rekindled, every year.

Historic drama put to the torch.

Catherine wheels and sparklers
entrance the young. Squibs and jumping
crackers provide the edge, Echoing
sounds and sparks fire the sky.

A bombardment to delight.

Rockets send clusters of stars bursting
into their own beautiful but fleeting galaxies,
expanding to nothingness.

Is our own planet just part of a firework display,
wondrous but short-lived?

where will WE find a piano stool?

© Marion Sharville

2 thoughts on “FIREWORKS

Add yours

  1. hello chrisfiore5
    this is a silver surfer from England
    thanking you for saying you liked my poetry. It is encouraging to receive nice comments. If you had clicked on the small white square ‘about this blog’ you would have been warned what you were in for, a touch of insanity here and there. Also thanyou for your good wishes for the New Year.
    Please accept my good wishes for a really happy and peaceful New Year.

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