Fireworks Below Poem by Derek Ouyang

When mist shrouds the crimson gates in
Afternoon blanket, you sometimes wonder
Just how far those peaks stretch
Into the wet, sundrenched sky
If, perhaps, they soar so high
That at night, when the fireworks
Begin, you can climb those towers
And watch the light show from above
Whistling rockets exploding at your feet
The backdropp not a purple cloud
But a panorama of city lights
And millions of boys and girls staring
At heaven - or are they staring at you?
But you, always one toe on the ground
Now look up, see the mist has departed
And the top of the gates are nearly
The size of your outstretched hand
And I am the size of your pinky nail