The time of a memory

Curious fingertips of a raindrop touched

The Pink shaded blossom which curved around

 Each petal on the branches of the old tree.

She watched from the window,

Remembering the kiss that was planted

Just after the cherry tree by enthusiastic lips

On her mouth that had mocked the idea of it.

Wrinkled fingertips were pushed against the glass

Washed clean by the water droplets

On the window pane. The rain

Of the world held time while she looked out

With memory, not aging at all.

Towards the light

A shade of ebony shadow drapes itself

Over the fireworks that explode into the sky;

As the colours burst with their flight

The small crowd applauds in the back garden

That became a display for the night.

A child steps out, a sparkler in a tiny hand-

Towards the bonfire, unaware of his red stripe scarf

Tucked out of the coat. Fascinated by the sparks,

His wellington boots leaving a foot print path behind

As he walks towards the flames.

A woman rushes after,

Panicking like a mother. She picks

The boy up to carry inside the house, past the throng

Of people that on look and did not move.

He peers over her shoulder wondering what he did wrong.