Goodbye

“Goodbye,” she said to her balloon.
“I hope you travel to the moon.
I hope that you are happy lots
and visit God and lightbulb watts.
I hope you have a great adventure,
untouched by any public censure.
I hope for you, my dear balloon;
I hope you travel to the moon.”

The little girl was sad, you see;
she wished she could accompany
the balloon on his journey.

But balloons were made for flight
and she was made for star-filled nights
with fire-flies that buzzed about
and glittered beyond any doubt.

So up he drifted to the sky,
a little speck to human eye.
She wiped away a single tear
but tried to regain her cheer.

“Goodbye, my friend,” she said again,
“I wish you blessings, now and then.
And if one day you finish the start
I’ll gather your pieces in my heart
and mend you back together again.
You’ll never die- for we are friends.”

The little girl looked at the sky,
thought of God enthroned on High,
and smiled a little just to think
of her balloon upon the brink
of meeting Him. Perhaps he’d stay
to talk to God of her that day.

“And if you should ever POP!,
please don’t think that you should stop.
That day you finish the start
I’ll gather your pieces in my heart
and mend you back together again.
You’ll never die- for we are friends.”

She turned once more to the golden sky
unto which her balloon did fly.
“God,” she said, “take care of him.
Please see he doesn’t sink, but swims.
Please shower him with eternal grace;
and the light of Your shining face.
Watch over him ‘cause I’m not there
and I don’t want him to be scared.”

She put a brave smile on her face
and crying, turned to leave the place
where she said goodbye to her balloon
so he could travel to the moon.

God turned to her from high above,
His smile completely filled with love.
“Don’t think all’s lost,” he said to her,
“for upon you I shall confer
a rainbow medley of balloons,
so many it will make you swoon.”

“I only wanted one,” she’ll say,
“and I gave him to You today.”

On that day in gold September
she always chooses to remember
her self-imposed year of Jubilee,
her own choice to set him free.

“Don’t worry that we’re apart
for I’ve gathered your pieces in my heart.
Sometimes I’m angry you’ve gone to be
somewhere so far away from me.
But more often I’m happy I had the strength
to ensure you weren’t chained.”

She laughs; the sun rests in her hair,
making it its golden lair.
Entranced by her rose perfume,
it chases away her silver gloom.

“There are fire-flies,” she says, alight
“and silver stars that are so bright.
And no matter the end of my romance
I was made to live- and dance.”

The red balloon in outer space
had also grappled with his fate.
He had not necessarily wanted to leave,
only to have room to breathe.

But here, enthroned alongside God,
and blessed by His beneficent nod,
he smiled to see a pink balloon
also ascending to the moon.

“Hello,” he said, “and how are you?”
“Is that God?” she asked. “It’s true?”
In the shadow of God above;
that was where they fell in love.

On that day in gold September
the little girl chooses to remember
what she had, not what she lost,
the rose unrimmed by silver frost.

“I wished that to me you’d cleave,
but I know you needed room to breathe.
So if in the shadow of God above,
it’s true that you’ve fallen in love,
I’ll make that be okay.
Maybe it won’t happen today,
but I promised once if you finished the start
I’d gather your pieces in my heart.
And if nothing else, my word is true,
so one day I’ll be happy for you.”

She’s a golden girl, bedecked in light,
and her smile seems so bright.
But even angels sometimes cry
and she misses her balloon in the silver sky.