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It must be late, the alarm is on
“Mom, it’s a fireball, I think a rocket took off!”
The tears in her eyes tells me it must be beautiful
She only cries when bad things happen to the good people
During romances and horrors
But of course during dramas
When face to face with great art
When a good song is on

Bright cloud yells bang
They won’t let us run
It’s no fun watching the sun be outshined
There is no one left inside
Empty houses
Yellow skies

The breeze is hot
It’s the middle of winter
“My face burns, mom!”
The snow melts quicker
Can’t see
The cloud is blinding me
“Let’s go, mom!”