On Franklin Street the children play.
Whether whispering death, or born that day
The Fourth will find the youth in man
With beer and sparklers in hand
To celebrate as they may.

“We are the patriots!” they say
While they fold their flag away;
The one for which better people stand
On Franklin Street.

On this day we kneel and pray
For those who fought our foes away
From our free and forted land.
Lights birth and die all while the band
Play until the last note decays
On Franklin Street.

*This is a personal poem not affiliated with any news item of the day (though it is Fourth of July weekend)