Bob's father was an operator
At Dow;
He ran Firecracker Day,
Bless him;
In the back beginning at eight.
Perfect timing,
But the wait to cross over
Was worth it.
The bangs and booms
Were hardly noticeable.
You must've been there too
As the school burned down
In upon itself;
The joy of the dark
In bright flashes
Of appearing and fading faces.
I'm hearing the explosions again
On this Victoria Day,
And see your face
Disappearing
In the last light
Of a sparkler.