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a fleeting thought

pools

as a single droplet of water



a luminous tear ebbs

a neglected son, a mocking daughter



a crimson blemish

taints asphalt

mingles,

shards of glass,

depressed steel

and jumbles of smoldering grass



trauma, pain

scars to heal

confusion, fear

they prey, they kneel



an indifferent moon postures,

a weeping mother mourns



squandered dreams

veiled

in a cloak of mystery



no last minute miracle

to mark history



no golden angel

taking flight



as the world stops turning

one candle snuffed out in the night

I'm thinking Coney Island amusement park! Am I right? It seems to me that you were describing the Big Parade but also I detected a tiny bit of negative emotion in the poem, as if your mind was wandering to something almost sad, like a family turning up on December 25th only to discover, for some unfathomable reason, the attraction was closed for the day. Anyway, good luck and I hope you make it safe to Coney next year!