The boy is so much
like a balloon;
each day farther –
he is floating away
like a bloated
red and yellow mask,
grinning as he drifts
off into the blue
above the open,
ignorant field.
He is too far away now
to slash the ropes
that strap him
to hot air rising;
and the time
has long past
since anyone
could still button
him down to earth.
Whetstone: This from Poetic Asides - The prompt today was to write a poem with the following words in any order: slash, button, mask, strap, and balloon














Comments: 21
Thanks for sharing with Gather’s Luminous Writers & Artists
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The Surreal Circus.
Who, as a child, has never wanted to be a balloon? Floating gracefully out of ourselves, toward some other dimension? This reminds me of the movie we used to watch every year in elementary school, "Le Ballon rouge."
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