Friday, October 16, 2009
3:43 pm – 4:32 pm
He smiled at the sight of a bottle of root beer
If he listened for once,
His father promised him one at the end of the day
He just needed to pay attention to all the work
That needed to be done.
His brothers were older and stronger but needed help
He knew he was facing another long day in the yard
And though he’d much rather play,
His father’s helium balloon invention was nearly done
He watched them tether the rope to secure down the mylar
How big their hands looked.
He wondered if his hands could hold rope without help
He closed and opened his tiny hands in and out of fists
If he did it long enough,
His hands might grow and maybe his body would, too
He was only happy to think about this little body of his
For one reason.
He could fit in the small basket underneath the big balloon.
He tried before and found there was plenty of room for him,
For his favorite blanket,
And for three very cold bottles of root beer
He got a good yelling at when he was caught for sneaking in
But it was worth it.
And getting his father angry was nothing much new
Here he was, before he or anyone could tell, devising a plan
And until it was time,
There was no way he or anyone would know
He smiled at the thought of three bottles of root beer,
His favorite blanket,
And floating away forever from the work and yelling from the yard