Smores
You snatched a marshmallow from the table
And have it lightly brush the orange-red flames
And let a delicate golden crust
Wrap the sticky gooeyniss inside.
Then you grab two uneven gram crackers
And three chocolate slices
And with your mastered skills of hand-eye-cordnation
You are able to slide the perfect marshmallow
Onto the perfect sandwich
On the perfect night.
You bite into it and have
that sitcky stuff that never comes off,
Spill on your hands.
But you don't care.
Because you just hear the
talking
Laughing
And Kids playing
but you only notice the
pink-blue-orange-white sky
And the smiles on everyones faces
And the smoke that spirals to the moon
And though it may be late,
School might not be out,
We still will act like
The night will never end.
