In the hands of thoughtless youth. (Dedicated to Jason DeRusha.)

 

In the hands of thoughtless youth, a sparkler's merry dance,
Becomes a tool of recklessness, and chance takes its chance.
In the thrill of fleeting light, in the laughter of the night,
Dwells the danger unbeknown, when safety's out of sight.

A box of fireworks, misused, a bonfire of delight,
Turns quickly into terror's flame, in the absence of the light.
Young hearts see only joy's facade, in the burst of colored sky,
But forget the deadly power held, in the pyrotechnics high.

Playing with such potent tools, as if they were mere toys,
Puts at risk both life and limb, in pursuit of fleeting joys.
For the sparks that fly are not just light, but embers burning hot,
And when handled without due care, cause harm that's dearly bought.

Homes and trees set ablaze, from an ill-timed rocket's glare,
Witness to the reckless act, in the sultry summer air.
In the wake of youthful folly, lies destruction and despair,
A stern reminder of the cost, when caution's lost to dare.

Respect the flame, the bursting star, the cascade of the night,
For in their beauty lies a beast, that's eager for a fight.
Let's educate our young, impress upon them this truth plain,
That reckless acts can kindle woe, in every fiery rain.

So let us celebrate with care, with fireworks that delight,
Safeguard lives and property, in the soft and starlit night.
In every burst of joy and awe, let caution play its part,
And let wisdom guide each hand, and understanding every heart.