Firework

Next month at poetry group the theme is November - wide enough to give room for lots of interpretation. My son Adam was born in early November,  39 years ago - so it seemed only right to write a poem for him.  



Slow to give up your safe, dark cave,
A week later than expected, long days after than was hoped, 
You were born the day before the skies erupted into light
And all of England burned their guys on teetering wooden piles. 
For years you must have thought it all for you:
The donning of coats and scarves,  boots and gloves, 
To go out from the warmth into the dark night,  
To stand huddled in cold excitement, waiting
For the screams of rockets, Catherine wheels, Roman candles,
Sparklers writing your name in the sky. 

© Copyright 2021. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved 

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