The Balloon

Jess sat on a slatted bench
on Pearl Street
to wait for a friend, when:

a girl sailed past in a skip,
a red balloon
bobbing in beat above her golden head.

While her parents took leaps to keep up,
she paused to feel
the gentle push of the wind against

the swollen and stretched red rubber.
Deliberately,
she let go the string in curious wonder.

The father, well-practiced at things
such as this,
grabbed the balloon in his fist

as it floated out of reach of the small
outstretched arm.
Giving it back to his child, he said:

There now, hold on to it tight.
Hesitating,
she took it and looked up to the sky.

Jess, knowing the heart of the child
said (to herself)
No, let it go, watch it fly!