Jerret Zierenberg
4th Of July Probs
The Smell of smoke,
the sight of fire, as
A CRACK!
A POP!
and an explosion of colors fill the sky.
I light the wick, for the satisfaction of,
getting burnt tips on my fingers,
And the smells of gun powder for days after this night.
I can’t hear myself think
as it sounds like the front line of a war!
all around me.
I walk in the house
then comes the relief, of the cool air smacking me in my face!
the smell of no gun powder from the fireworks in the air
fills my nose,
and the sounds of absolutely nothing,
fills my ears that are beating so hard…
You might think, they have a heart beat of the own!
4th Of July Probs
The Smell of smoke,
the sight of fire, as
A CRACK!
A POP!
and an explosion of colors fill the sky.
I light the wick, for the satisfaction of,
getting burnt tips on my fingers,
And the smells of gun powder for days after this night.
I can’t hear myself think
as it sounds like the front line of a war!
all around me.
I walk in the house
then comes the relief, of the cool air smacking me in my face!
the smell of no gun powder from the fireworks in the air
fills my nose,
and the sounds of absolutely nothing,
fills my ears that are beating so hard…
You might think, they have a heart beat of the own!