After The Fireworks Poem by Greg Davidson

I am waiting at the station,
I don’t want to wait no more,
And I’m standing in the darkness
With, it seems, three thousand more.

We have seen the New Year’s fireworks,
Jewels exploding in the night.
We were filled with awe and wonder
At the splendor of the sight.

But now I’m waiting at the station,
For a western suburbs train,
My feet are sore and blistered
And I’m sure it’s going to rain.

I have walked the length of George Street
And trudged about the Quay,
Through the smoke from all the fireworks,
Just to get a cup of tea.

Now I’m waiting at the station,
And I don’t want to wait no more,
I have been here since one thirty
And it’s almost half past four.

I have made a resolution,
If there’s fireworks I must see,
Then from the comfort of my lounge room,
I will watch them on T.V.

But now I’m waiting at the station,
With my mobile phone in hand,
I will send a text to all my friends;
“The fireworks, weren’t they grand.”