Staring at her upside down reflection in her spoon,
The “O” in the sky, the balloon that’s floating to the moon.
Her cheerios are getting soft and soggy, like a bowl of mush.
So are her thoughts, they seem to evaporate,
And they’re with the balloon, distant and foggy.
She plays with Dolly: her best friend, her daughter, her son.
They stand on their tiptoes trying to reach the sun.
There’s mud on her glossy shoes today, crunching rainbow leaves.
Mama will be mad, but it’s worth a paper boat sailing in the breeze.
A perilous wandering journey across the mirror puddle, the remnants of the rain.
But as the dandelion in the pavement says, “If there’s no pain, then there’s no gain.”
If you’d ever watch the rain drop, as a sunbeam weaves,
You’d see a thousand prisms, a duplicate, before the master peaks.
They say if you see the rainbow from above, it’s a circle, a giant “O”.
How she’s jealous of that red moon balloon, in the sky a tiny “O”.
She’s envious of others, like them she wants to be.
Who did things of worth and awe, who rode from star to sea.
Alice went through the looking glass.
The Little Prince came from a star.
Jesus walked on water, because he’s a superstar.
I’ll find a dandelion
When next I can
And I’ll make her a wish.
Wish her happiness because ignorance is bliss,
Though she’d still be all knowing.
And a trip to the moon
Inside the red balloon.
Or I fear she’ll stay here searching in her metal spoon.
(I wrote this poem when I was fifteen years old.
The image is a still from the 1956 French film The Red Balloon)