When I was young I blew up a balloon
Shiny and perfect like a cartoon,
I tied it’s string to my wrist, strong and new
Fearing it would leave when the wind blew.
Like my shadow it followed beside
Standing up tall, I grinned with pride.
It bobbed above me whenever I skipped
And it pulled me back up whenever I tripped.
But as time passed it was molded and grey,
Shrinking and wrinkling every day.
I patched it up with tape and glue,
Hoping somehow it would pull through.
With every year people come and go.
I watched some die and I watched some grow.
My wrist got bigger and the string became tight,
But yet I held on with all of my might.
There it was by my side forced to stay,
As seasons passed and the birds flew away.
People’s voices filled my mind
Telling me I couldn’t leave my balloon behind.
But soon it became heavy and my arm became weak
And my balloon was dirty, damaged and bleak.
I stared at it wondering what I would see
If I let it fly on its own away from me.
One day I stood up and I cut the string
Feeling the relief that it did bring
Releasing the weight I could finally see
That sometimes you have to let go to be set free.