The Fourth of July. On this day, I cry
how I'm no longer a child, how fireworks appear so wild
each year, I grow old. Look back, sad and cold
Friends no longer lie on the couch, eat pie
on TV, The Twilight Zone, give the dead dog a Milk Bone
underneath, now mild, the floors newly tiled
rest from acting bold, a mask, a life sold
thoughtless, empty, from the start. Decisions, a work of art
how on my smartphone, I write poems, hone
old memories lost, knives rusted, the cost
forgotten, an old man weeps, others celebrate, he sleeps
Juju, black ice frost, winter beckons, tossed
under the bed, creeps out with yellow peeps
lingers awhile as eyes dart side to side, wary, claws smart
yet, how do they pry apart summer's dry
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