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The Boy and His Balloon

I am a balloon Filled with impossibly light air. I am reaching to the sky With my whole being, but my string is in the fist of an infant who thinks that I am all he has. His mother ties us together- I, to his wrist And him to the string That bounces me merrily along this cool autumn day. One day I will slip off and away, And mother will say 'It's okay. You'll get another soon.' But he knows that I am his balloon, and there is not another like me. His infant eyes will see The bitter way of things, and in his human heart, he will let me go and watch, as I, finally free, float into eternity.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2022




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