Blue, green, and red fireworks
In fantastic shapes and sizes
Burst across the evening sky,
Amazing the little girl who holds her mother’s hand.
A present to the six year old
That permanently resides
In the dream compartment
Of those able to smile.
Accompanied by explosive sounds
That momentarily catch the child's imagination,
Creating a space for uncertainty and fear
Before Mom nods the world safe and fun again.
From the science that brought us
Spears, guns and bombs,
A collateral, incidental byproduct
Of progress, becomes the wonder of the innocent.
She will dream of the colors
In those giant spreading displays
That filled the sky,
But, thankfully, not of the power that launched the wonders.
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