deepundergroundpoetry.com

Balloon

It's been so quiet
inside these rubber walls
while great finches flit down to peck at the tether.  
I wait, in the endless line of our exchange, for claws to break through,  
for your moon-coloured hands to dangle me
as a belated balloon with a weighted string
who'd sail across an empty sky,  
given half the chance,  
before falling
upon someone else's washing line
and spending the rest of her life.
ImperfectedStone
Written by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
Published | Edited 26th Nov 2020
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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