One Best Memory/Metaphor

When we first moved to this town,
my partner and I tried to locate
where & when the firework display would be.

We packed a picnic basket and an old blanket,
carried them up a huge flood wall
where people were starting to gather and waited.

At dusk,
a long way off,
on the other side of the park even,
behind some trees,
beyond the artsy pumphouse,
we noticed a small display going off over the city pool.
Music blared.

"We missed it!
I can't believe we missed it!"
For whatever reason that evening,
I was hopelessly disappointed.

Yet, just when I was at the hight of my despair,
one single red rocket fired overhead of me
from about 200 yards away,
deep within the river basin.

I jumped a little, gaped and lay back on the slope.
It was darkening quickly
and the red embers fell from the sky
just over my face it seemed,
in a shower of glittering, primordial delight.
I had never been so close
to such a display that
I actually thought I could reach up into the darkness
and catch a glowing spark.
A magnificient display commenced.

We were so close, in fact,
that year some of the grass nearby
did smolder and smoke for abit.
In subsequent years,
the fire department has moved back the viewing
line with strict yellow paint.