The party is over
and I am left
with a mess of dishes
and a bunch of balloons.

The dishes can wait.
The balloons, though -
The balloons are an immediate concern.

Balloons were meant to fly.
You can keep them on a string
for the length of a party
or a used-car sale,
but in the end,
they're meant to fly.

So I let them go
one
by
one
by
one,
sending along with them
a thought
and a wish
and a kiss
from me

to some faraway soul
who may wonder
as I would
where it came from
what hands held it
and let it go

to some faraway soul
who I will never meet
but touch anyway.

Colorful dots chase the horizon,
shrink and disappear
one
by
one
by
one
and as they do,
so does my own darkness.

Because balloons
and thoughts
and wishes
and kisses
are meant to fly.

And so am I.

07/29/2006