6 October 2012
The darkest skies
Lie up above
There's hands a twitching
Inside gloves
That smoky smell
That fills the air
The whooshing, weeping, swirling glare
The sticks that spark and sticks that glow
The fires rising and marshmallows below
The oohs and aahs of the crowds around
Then again left in silence not a single sound
Opuss № I