Hillside.

I miss the fireworks.

I miss the hill, where I'd sit and wait for the fireworks.

I miss the breeze from the wind, blowing my hair.

I miss waiting for the first pop.

I miss the little sparkles on the sky.

I miss the dusts of drawings at the stars.

I miss breathing the smoky air.

I miss the sound of explosions.

I miss the calmness; after the fireworks.

I miss the fireworks.