balloon

suspended between the ceiling and the floor
eliciting squeals and smiles for a few days
tight and reflecting, almost bursting with exuberance
while shiny mylar frogs proclaim "Hoppy Birthday!"

now dragging its green ribbon across the carpet
swirling in circles of air from the floor register
like an old man leaking gas through seams
losing the battle of loft through diffusion

i kicked it this morning
lying in my path, not just physically but as mental clutter
i will kidnap it tonight after the children are in bed
rescuing it from punches and sharp objects

placing it atop black hefty trash bags
frogs still smiling, remembering the joy they once brought
to a now five year old who still remembers
and when morning comes asks where his dying balloon went