and when they light up our town I just think,
what a waste of gunpowder and sky
I’m sat inside, gazing out the window as the some of the surrounding neighbours set off fireworks. The night is peppered with dull thumps and brittle crackles, garish green flares against black, and in my head the quiet melancholy descends.
It’s been a long, tiring day, facilitating meetings, full of good and bad. I know not to take some of the criticsms personally but they resonate and my natural empathy kicks in. I feel the annoyance and pain, I share the frustration that some things aren’t better, yet I get no gain from the good, from the laughs of the team, their in-jokes pass me by.
I am drained, emotionally and physically.
I watch the short life of the fireworks outside. The temporary brilliance, and powerful death, and the lines of the song reverb round my head.
So that’s today’s memory lane
with all the pathos and pain
another chapter in a book where the chapters are endless
and they’re always the same
a verse, then a verse, and refrain