i know that you stow your feelings
in that red balloon:
an ugly crimson monstrosity
you have in your room

as a child it was simple
to breathe into it your angst,
and disappointments,
barely noticing it inflate

now you are older
and i am, too.
we both know the futile struggle
to maintain our own balloons.

you will continue to fill yours
with passionate words unsaid.
but you could let it float
towards the sun, instead.

watching it escape into
an embracing sky,
kissing clouds nearby,
all the children who
once were me and you
will look up and say
"my! what a pretty red balloon!"