Bonfire Night.

Dark. Late October.
Parking the car.
Bright lights from the fair.
Pay in at the gates.
Candy floss. Rides.
The bonfire, twenty feet high.
Men with torches behind the fence.
The thing starts to blaze.
My face warm, then hot,
my back cold as ice,
the flames lick higher,
and higher until
it's a great orange mountain.
Then fireworks.
Ooooh and aaaah, and
spinning catherine wheels,
and then its over.
We walk over the rubbish,
tired now,
out through the gates
to the car
and home.