Fireworks

Pebbles crunch and slide
Beneath my baseball boots.
The sea locker, rusted at the corners,
Opens stiffly, like an old man
Standing from his television chair,
Ready for bed.
It, too, has seen better days.

We build a fire,
From the shed we pulled down
To make room for the garage.
The shards are like broken teeth
In the car's gaping boot.
In the light, the stretch of water
We can see, just beyond the pebbles,
Slowly creeps up, then retreats.
It won't put out the fire tonight.

An old tin kettle sings on the primus stove.
Mugs of tea are passed round the group of adults.
There's treacle toffee, homemade,
For the children running about,
Too excited to stand still and watch.
I'm not a child.
Where do I fit?
I tell myself that's not a question for now.
Don't start down that road tonight.
Enjoy the rare sight,
The once a year delight
Of the beach fireworks.