by Evie D., 14
A stormy Sunday morning,
Children coming to play.
A dog barks with joy,
Beginning their day.
And one small balloon, clutched in two small hands.
Wiggle into rain coats,
Shimmy into boots.
Place your hat on your head.
“Out we go,” a child hoots.
And one small balloon, held in two small hands.
Droplets splash on all their heads,
While they jump with bounding glee.
When clouds open up and rain pours down,
The children feel ultimately free.
With one small balloon, in two small hands.
Climbing to a rocky outlook,
Gazing over land.
Out to shining waters,
And beaches filled with sand.
And one small balloon, grasped in two small hands.
A sudden gust of wind,
The drops of rain are slowed.
The children cry out as they see
The gray wave goodbye as it flowed.
Through the clouds,
Through the rain.
When eyes lift up,
The smoke will wane.
With one small balloon, clasped in two small hands.
Then
A small, glittering beam of sun
Shining through the gloom.
Just one,
Only one.
Shining on one small balloon, drifting away through the blue.
Farmingdale, New Jersey
Notes from our interns on selecting this piece: This is a beautifully written poem that captures the joy and wonder of childhood. The imagery is vivid and the emotions it evokes are palpable. The use of repetition with the small balloon creates a sense of innocence and simplicity that is touching.
Bridge Ink 