The blue balloon

I drive the back way home

Lost in thought

Deaf and dumb

Moving through streets

I know so well

I don’t have to hear or see

Alive, but not alive,

Seeing everything

In the rear view mirror

A dull ache of lost things

Propelling me forward

As I search the road side

For omens of what might be

Should be

Or can never be again

Lost on even these familiar streets

A spirit trapped inside my chest

Banging on these walls of flesh
while I am desperate to keep it in

Fearing it might slip out

and vanish

forgiving me for its fleeing

Like that blue balloon

I lost at eight

When the string slipped

From between my fingers,

Me crying pointlessly

At something that could care less

A shrinking figure against

The pale sky

The loss of which I still mourn

An inanimate, pointless,

Inflated piece of plastic

That had no feelings

At all.