Fireworks II

Brightness.
Sudden, loud.
Glamorous, vivid, dazzling.
The night sky is aflame,
And the onlookers can't stop watching.
They sit with anxiousness, with excitement.
It is a hot July night, and they are waiting.
Waiting for something.
Boom! Bang!
They wince.
It comes!
Flash!
Crackle, crackle,
Twinkle, twinkle,
Then they fade away.
Gone.
But smiles spread across the peoples' anxious faces,
And the children begin to laugh, shrieking with hearty giggles.
The music plays on, synchronized
And the night sky alights again
Flashing to the beat of the band.
America, America.
And here it comes again:
The dazzling brightness.
Pow!
A burst of red.
Pop!
A flash of blue.
Wow!
White shows its glowing face
And then fades into the clouds once more,
Nothing but an ugly ash
Turned to a heavy puff of smoke.
And the sky was dark again.
America, America.
Then silence.
It's over.
The audience roars with excitement, appreciation,
Clapping their hands and cheering.
The children, restless, run about,
Waving their own little flags--
They're proud of their country.
And others, fruitless, watch the sky,
Waiting hopelessly for one final boom.
It doesn't come.
The show is over.
Time to go home.
The hoi polloi turn to leave, headed for their cars and trucks;
All seems forgotten, the wonderful show,
But it can't be.
The searing elegance of it all burned is into their psyche:
Bright, brilliant, fascinating.
No, they can't forget.
And they won't.
The park will be seeing them again next year.
It's all in a matter of time.
Yet a few gawkers continue to sit,
Their heads tilted back to the sky, still expectant.
America, America.
But the sky is dark, unfortunately.
And they aren't coming back; not for a year,
Tomorrow a sign will read, "Until next summer".
Oh well.
They watch the stars, thoughtful.
Wishes, wishes,
Longing, longing.
A heart-felt sigh on the wind,
A twinkle in the eye.
Fireworks sure are beautiful.