We put on the mittens
We put on the gloves.
We poured us the wine
The cocoa with love.
Added some Bailey's
And laid on the scarves -
Its the Fourth of July
And covered in fog.
We heard us some thunder
The neighbor kids roar
Clouds with color and tone
Lightning bottled and pure
For that's what it was
A magical sky
Thick and apparently where
Fireworks died.
We saw us the tails
Trails trapped in the mix
Heard the “oohs” and the “ahs”
And rocketing sticks.
But in the end, it was all just like glitter
Dripping from pockets
Of bright cloudy litter.
Were they green - red white or blue?
Purple I think, the color of dew.
San Francisco Fourth's, they come with the wind
And fireworks left to imagining friends.
But those kids on the roof -
They shouted with glee!
Its the only Fourth they know
In this fogged in city.
It was Santa and more
The twinkle ends of our show
Cool though it was, the city did glow.
So THANK YOU pyro-people for giving it a shot.
We're sure they were lovely or big or what not.
We write from this cloud and send out to your stations
Happy Fourth to you all - in a clearer sky nation.
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