Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Moving On

Like a balloon
I want to float away,
fly freely. Escape.
But, you, the weight
at the end of my ribbon,
prevent me from drifting away,
keeping me grounded.
Your hand,
gently touches my face.
It’s ice cold,
probably from standing in the rain
waiting with me,
urging me to take a step,
because it’s time to move on.
Out of nervousness,
I bite my lip, so hard it bleeds.
“It’s okay.”
And the tears fall
Your soothing voice makes
those hard-to-hold-back tears trickle.
We walk, together,
through the rain.