The Morning after a Windy, Stormy Night

I looked out the window afraid I would see fallen tree limbs and other debris from the storm the night before. To my surprise this is what I saw:

A colorful, deflated balloon that must have braved the storm all night.
It reminded me of how much my children had always delighted in balloons. And they would intensely mourn when the balloon finally popped or flew away.


Consider these poems:

MY BALLOON
By
Gregory K.

“Why, oh why, oh why, oh why????
Oh, please come back!” I moan and sigh.
I jumped but you had gone too high.
Now you’re flying in the sky.
I think I’m really gonna cry….
Goodbye, my poor balloon. Goodbye.

 Untitled
by Skip Halthen 

My balloon was in the sky.
My balloon was flying high,
But then it popped and died.
And that's the end.