How eager are the children as they look up into the sky, <br />Reacting to a theatre of sound, colour and light, <br />A euphoria of expectation, the holding of breath, <br />The lighting of the bonfire, on top sits the awesome guy, <br />The igniting in the centre, then the flames that glow so bright, <br />And in all this heat the guy will meet his death. <br /> <br />The sudden whoosh as the bonfire now takes front stage, <br />The roaring flames devouring the stack with energy so strong, <br />Heat growing with each lick from those great feasting tongues, <br />Crackling, spitting, shooting sparks, turning violent with rage, <br />A deep orange glow reflected in the faces of the staring throng, <br />Smoke rising into the hair, the eyes, the nose and then the lungs. <br /> <br />With the fireworks carefully set up, the show can now begin, <br />With noise from all the pyrotechnics, assailing the ears, <br />What brilliant hues flash before illuminated lively eyes, <br />The cheering becomes louder, quickly rising to a din, <br />Then the cold night enfolds your body as midnight nears, <br />And the mighty fire, mighty no longer, crumbles and dies. <br /> <br />A pile of ash is all that is left, <br />The bonfire, guy, fireworks, all are gone, <br />Like a dream, into your memory.<br /><br />Ernestine Northover<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bonfire-night/
