Wednesday, December 12, 2012


It's slightly shriveled
that old balloon
the red skin wrinkled
like a giant prune.

She remembers clearly
that summer day
He said so dearly
"Go out and play."

he seemed unsteady
but she had to ask
if he was ready
for a little task

and as a father
he acquiesced
it was really no bother
he weakly confessed,

the orb was inflated
she played on the lawn;
he buckled, deflated
then he was gone.

It's glumly garish
in it's corner nook
but she'll always cherish
that breath he took.

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