Inspired by the amazing Jennifer Liston and her wonderful 'Mrs. Noah' poem, and the Mary Poppins story of the Balloon Woman with her 'Balloons AND balloons, my dearie ducks!'
Three
months and dithering
Verklempt,
unsure
She
gave in finally.
Walked
to the store, money in hand
Bought
that damned book
The
one with the detective (she hated the dames)
The
one she identified with so much
She
wished they could have dinner.
Talk
all night. Dance all night.
If
wishes were horses – but she didn’t ride
And
she’d fallen off the one time she did.
She
went to the park. She felt it was calling her.
Breezes,
sun, perfect lazy weather
And
there at the entrance was a Balloon Woman.
“Balloons
and balloons, my dearie ducks!” she cried.
“There’s
a balloon for everyone
If
you only take your time!”
What
the hell, she thought, it’s only fifty cents.
So
she paid, and took her time
And
picked a balloon, scarlet as the bright stripe
On
her defiantly undercut hair.
To
her surprise, initials appeared like magic
On
the balloon’s spherical surface –
Beautifully
calligraphed, an O and a C.
“…Those
aren’t my initials!” she exclaimed.
“They’re
mine though,” said a voice beside her.
Startled,
she turned, and right there was The Detective
(She
recognised him at once, she knew his description so well.)
“Maybe
this is yours?” he asked, and handed her
A
deep blue balloon that looked like velvet and stars
And
sure enough, her initials.
“Thank
you,” she stammered, and handed over his balloon.
“They
say if you wish hard enough, you can fly,” he murmured.
She
looked at him. At the balloon. Then back at him again.
“Let’s
go flying,” she said, with a smile like sparkling lemonade.
And
the Balloon Woman watched with a satisfied dimple
As
they held hands and swooped into the air
Balloons
flying joyously like flags –
The
Detective, in his dapper suit
And
the Dame, in her tank top and old blue jeans
Laughing
and talking, light as dandelions
On
the good spring breeze.
