balloon

this balloon, once so meaningful
now lays on the ground
of no fault of it's own
it will fly no more

if only I had forseen events
when my joy first dwindled
I surely would have let it go
but I put myself first

again.

this old tree

this old tree is growing
it’s beginning to take up the yard
the grassy area we once laid upon
is now just a frame for that old tree

it’s branches grow and shed
as the seasons pass us by
but they keeping reaching
upward toward heaven

while the roots spread
and stretch underground
declaring the space they earned
they let us know it’s time

this old tree owns the land
and our old house feels it
the walls are cracking
and the floor is warped

our bedroom window view
is only branches and leaves now
and the foundation beneath us
is giving into the pressure

the rings this tree holds inside
out number the years of our home
and it’s aged wisdom is silent
yet overwhelmingly heard

as the tree takes our home
we see our youth pass us by
and realize we are not rooted
but rather free to leave

so as the roots take new ground
and the branches reach up
we pack up our memories
in the suitcases we’ve never used

this old tree can have what it’s earned
we must see what the new season brings
this old tree knows where it belongs
but our place in the world is yet to come