PROMETHEUS (Sonnet #509)
Bringer of light, Prometheus did strike
Power of fire blooming high overhead
Explosions resounding, waking the dead,
At least sleeping babies wailing in fright.
Shock waves reach deep, paper shrapnel rains down
Feel my heart beat as I inhale the smell
Were this a war zone the sight would be hell
Instead picnic tables, chiciken abounds
Colors crimson, orange, yellow and blue
Escape their containment, racing t’ward us
Inferno thret fading into night dust
The next shells now airborne release brilliant hues
My father fought that this sight be no fright
Celebration reigns down, not death tonight.
© 2017 david w palmer