Bonfire kicks

Its bonfire night, so dark yet so bright,
the sky is alight; what a glorious sight.
Orange and red and white at great height,
a flash then a bang: sound’s slower than light.

Me and my girl, where out for some kicks,
craving some awe, that sky rocket fix.
We cut through the flats, passed towers so tall;
corporate and shiny graffiti and scrawl.

Muffled by London; So bright yet near dark,
obstructions and echoes, of Guido Fawkes spark.

The screaming of rockets; explosions of bling;
insects of fire: the jewel’s of a king.
Gracing the space, above our skyline;
as towers keep climbing a space in decline.

We stroll through the muddy; it's humid with fog,
sulphur and smoke; like olden day smog.
A storm of our making; for nature’s embrace,
we light up our world; to a backdrop of space.

The muddy is murky a single lamppost,
cut’s through the twilight; I pull my girl close.
The sky is electric; spark’s romance tonight,
we stop for a kiss under copied daylight,
sonic surroundings, bonfire night,
these are the moments which bind us so tight.

Long live the 5th a night of ignition,
and God bless old England and all her tradition.