Red Balloons
Oh my little beetle-winged truth
What will happen to you
in this day grown dark You will
be alive somewhere
we hope In the park a family in
their finery Unrumpled
corduroy and marled sweaters
Big bunch of red balloons
in the little girl’s hand I hope that
no one will photograph them
as they tumble toward evening
together Maybe they are
just on a balloon walk through
the leaves without snow
Every which way there are moments
that will be forgotten
Love the tumbly feel of this.
ReplyDelete