The Balloon
It floats there in its place
big and yellow and
haunting;
prompting me to smile.
Its tail hangs, like that of a
scorned puppy, who
never gets it right.
As it does its slow, hypnotizing
dance, bobbing up and down
carried by the currents,
the children all laugh,
and they let go,
imagining;
imagining where it will go.
If their laughter fills my ears,
why do I turn away,
run away?
I try and let go;
to be happy like
I should,
to be happy like
they are.
I try to let go;
to float away,
with the balloon.
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