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The Secret Poets observed of this post's poem that it need the consequences of the indoor fireworks described. You can read the previous versions here and here.
INDOOR FIREWORKS
Undeniably the box held promise
a sun bleached label with wonky grammar
overprinted with geysers of bright light
Reality was something different
A splutter of iron filing sparkle
a brief magnesium flare
the half remembered tang of a childhood chemistry set
I open windows onto a still night
the smoke refuses to disperse
as the damp air creeps in
Greasy smears everywhere
grey ash on the three piece suite
stuck to the curtains
The only thing I was grateful for back then
was there were no smoke detectors
to shatter our dumbfounded silence
Some life lessons are best learned early
As you can see the poem is now longer and more descriptive. I'm still not sure I am totally happy with it...
Here's Jacqui Dankworth with a wonderous version of an old standard.
Until next time.
