I clutch onto the ballon.
My feet dangle, 
as they skim over fluffy specks of dust

I tie the string around my hand 
and promise to never let it go. 
Just my balloon and me.

It catches onto a slight breeze,
bobbing and weaving past razor
sharp mountains.
​
My heart rockets,
ready to blast off into the horizon. 
Complete bliss fueling the engine.

But all it takes is a single branch,
beneath the bustle of green blades,
to pop what is fragile.

Flimsy string slips from my grip 
as I plummet 
back to planet Earth.

Sun:
I rouse
them from their sleep
with gentle kisses. 
Their petals unfurl 
against my glare. 
I promise
to always return.
For they should never dread 
the dark. 

Boy: 
I envision
the dimples 
that will illuminate 
her cheeks 
when the whiff
of summer infuses 
her senses.
Dainty buds
always blossom
with time. 

Husband:
When she sniffs
the sweet fragrance 
will the years of forgetting 
and empty silence
become a distant 
blur?
Can it buy
us back our youth 
and erase
the fine lines creased
across our brows?
Will it stand
as a remembrance 
that life requires
more than sunlight 
and water 
to really consider 
one alive? 
​