The Balloon
By Jason Borrego
There floats the shiny green balloon,
Like a leaf off a tree,
Hovering above the room.
Free as can be, cheery without worry.
Nothing is wrong.
Time passes, and the balloon continues to float,
Though there is a subtle change:
It’s become smaller, its color now yellow,
Like the yolk of an egg, slightly dimmer.
Yet, nothing is wrong.
With time, the balloon continues to float,
Now having shown another change:
It’s even smaller, the color now orange,
The dimming flame becomes smaller.
But again, nothing is wrong.
Time jumps again, the balloon is barely afloat,
Its appearance, now undeniable.
Smaller than ever, its color now red,
As if holding onto its last breath.
Is nothing wrong?
Finally,
The balloon starts to deflate,
Beginning to descend.
Falling…Falling…
But then…it is caught.
To the balloon’s surprise,
It is resupplied plenty, by the concern of many,
its color, its shape, its form,
Slowly reverting.
Slowly recovering.
Now stabilized,
It is released, allowed to levitate once again.
Once again free, once again at ease.
There again,
floats the shiny green balloon.
