Broken Balloons We were all young once dreamt unexamined dreams sure they would be fulfilled. Our eyes shone on a bright future from black and white pictures now moldering in yearbooks taken when for us the world was fresh as a newly bound book Through this magical kingdom we walked unencumbered by the weight of old hopes Burst by strings of desires unmet In pursuit of undeveloped apparitions we planned and strived - not believing for a minute our longings would turn out to be - years later - like the insides of a broken balloon. Only the beads of moisture on the torn rubber a remnant of the time when we blew into them all of our youth.
Barbara Ehrentreu's Questions:
1. Does the metaphor of the balloons work?
2. Can you guess that this is a poem about the reality of having lived long enough to see that most of your dreams are just that, though some of the joy of how you felt remains even if they don't come true?
That was difficult for me to show and I hope that the beads of moisture express this.