I need feedback on my poem, thanks.

Pop wasn’t just another word for soda
It was the sound that popcorn made
When it was spinning in the microwave
Its aroma making me burst with excitement
That’s how you knew it was Movie Night
Or the pop of bubblewrap
That was used to wrap the products
Of my Mother’s small business
Mixed with sounds of frustration
When the pop was heard less and less
Pop goes the weasel
A cheap tune would sing
While a beat-up puppet would jump out of a box
I bought from a crowded flea market
Making me jump up in surprise every time
Pop is a sound a gun can make
Whether heard in the woods along with cheering
Or on the news mixed with kids screaming
Even bubbles make sounds
Beautiful clear spheres filled with joy and amusement
Showering me with it once popped
My smile grew like the flowers around me
Or the pop of a gas pipe leaking C02
Waiting to be dispersed over the house
Like rationing tickets of death