Fireworks

Fireworks

A comedy of errors,
You could call my little family.
Three teenagers battle for control,
Of life's inevitability.

Screams of stark terror are heard,
As the phono bill hits the door.
"What do you mean,
You're taking our cell phones!"

The next comedy commences,
As they race for the car.
Control of the stereo we know,
Is the power position in the car.

Now we come to shopping,
And the "I wants all begin."
Turning quickly to "But I needs!"
Then tears of anguish before this phase ends.

My daughter and husband to be,
Rest their heads upon their hands.
Quietly thinking to themselves,
This wasn't what we planned!

Grandma sits back and chuckles softly,
A prerogative she's earned.
For past wounds inflicted,
And the gray her hair has turned.

Fourteen, fifteen and sixteen,
The kids have a year or two to go.
And there should alot of fireworks,
That accompany this show.

Credits

Clipart By Dark Treasures

Border By Graffix of Eden

Fireworks script By Kurt Gregg, kurt.grigg@virgin.net

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