The balloons were bright pink and blue
and, as I stepped across the curb,
they fell onto a reflection of you.
In this ever lonely street,
I gave you a smile and tilted my hat,
And I crossed over to a bench,
and found that as I sat,
you watched me,
your eyes growing curious
at how your reflection seemed to stay
in the balloon,
as if caught in the moon,
in a puddle's glimpse of the sky.
You catch your breath,
as I let them go,
and they sail into the sky,
as if on archer's bow.
Caught in an oval of pink and blue,
your eyes seem to scream a lovely tune,
as they go whistling out of view.
And I walk back to where I came from; my black lagoon.
Now you follow my feet in step,
knowing that you are just another child,
void of life,
another added dimension to my collection,
and I only caught your reflection once more;
on the glint of my knife.