Draft in the author’s style. This poem was written for Poet of Wall Street to sit beside the author’s own readings, and is waiting for the author’s review. The commentary is a working draft too.
For years they built it in a garage with a soldering iron's glow,
With noodles for their dinner and a dream they couldn't show.
The bankers laughed at first, and then the bankers came to call,
And now the name is shining on the banners of the hall.
This morning is the offering, the company goes public today,
And the founders stand together in their borrowed suits of grey.
The bell rings and the price leaps up like dolphins from the sea,
And a mother in the balcony is crying happily.
They remember every failure and the nights they wanted out,
And the friends who stayed beside them through the winter of the doubt.
So here's to every garage light that's burning after nine,
For the morning of the offering begins with one small line.
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Commentary
A company born in a garage goes public on the stock exchange. The founders remember the long road there.
For years the founders worked “in a garage with a soldering iron's glow,” with “noodles for their dinner.” “The bankers laughed at first, and then the bankers came to call.” Now “the company goes public today.”
“The bell rings and the price leaps up like dolphins from the sea,” and “a mother in the balcony is crying happily.” They remember “the nights they wanted out” and “the friends who stayed beside them.” The toast is to “every garage light that's burning after nine.”