When my town holds a party, our best is on display
The buntings strung, the streets are lined, and a parade gets underway.
We’ve invited all our friends and neighbors to meet in this location
To share our joy and raise a glass in jubilant celebration
Our central park will be our stage; the crowds will be delighted,
The carnies came, erecting tents, the midways getting excited.
The bingo stand and a tilt-a-whirl shares space just by the entrance
Late that night loud music blares from speakers for a street dance.
Friends have come, from near and far, they linger into evening,
Darkness falls, red streaks erupt, no dogs or cats left sleeping.
Cascading stars – some red – some blue, white smoke fills our valley
First oohs then aahs, horns honk and beep, silence signals a finale.
Next morning’s still, the crowd’s moved on, the city lays in slumber
Departing crews pull down the tents, the barkers count their plunder.
By eight o’clock, the coffees on, the merchant brooms are sweeping,
The city crates its festoons up, our annual dream safe keeping.
– Clarence Holm